Locusani: Saavedro's Tale
by Sugary Snicket
Summary: Locusani is a tale of stakes, revenge, and injustice. It is the tale of one man's determination to survive, one that began even before that of Myst. And now, you shall witness it through his eyes...
1. Prologue: The Dark

_Yes, my faithful fans and fellow Myst lovers, it's here – Locusani is here. I am SO excited to be sharing this with all of you right now that it's all I can do to not just sporadically post the entire story!_

_This story has really been a learning process for me, and it wasn't easy to write in any sense. As a good friend of mine told me once, writing insanity isn't easy, and neither is writing in first person. If what she says is true, then writing insanity in the first person is nuts – and it was at points. While writing this fanfic, I found myself looking deep inside myself for the crazy, feverish part of me that society has forced into hiding. Sometimes, my handwriting became sloppy as I wrote the less sane parts of Saavedro's predicament. I sometimes even sunk into the character myself, in the privacy of my own mind, or tried to get in character and act out what I thought Saavedro would do in X situation._

_The meaning of the title is hidden in the lyrics of the Myst III: Exile main theme, specifically in the last verse. Translated, the lyrics roughly mean:_

Tohmahna! Edanna! Amateria, Voltaic, Narayan!

J'nanin, breeding ground of lost souls…

_Of course, the Narani lyrics are far more flowing and actually sort of rhyme. Locusani, the Narani word for 'lost souls', is very fitting in many ways for Saavedro, this story, and the history of Narayan as well. (Oh, look, I can see all the members of the Narayani Collective nodding as they read this.)_

_Please note that I don't own Saavedro, Narayan, Myst, or anything to do with the following three topics – they all belong to Cyan Worlds and the now defunct Presto Studios._

_Well, that's all I have left to say, I guess – so, let's get this story rolling, shall we?_

* * *

The last thing that he remembered was the darkness. The shadows, crushing and rank with the stench of decay and despair. They were everywhere, surrounding him like an army of misery.

And the fear.

There was such a powerful aura of it here, a curtain of sickly panic that enveloped him and threatened to swallow him whole.

And then he was running…

… But from what? There was nothing here, nothing to escape, nothing to avoid – not that he could see much in the pitch darkness.

Yet his legs wouldn't stop, no matter what he tried. He had to run, had to escape, had to, had to…

Flames suddenly sparked up from nowhere, roaring to life in front of him, and from out of the hellish scene sprung two shadows, one with eyes that glinted like malicious rubies, and the other with eyes that glowered at him like unfeeling sapphires. The shadows reached for him, sable claws outstretched, but their prey was far too quick and was off and running yet again…

He ran and ran until his legs could take no more, then collapsed upon the ground. He could feel those eyes bore into his soul like embers, feel the demons' hot breath on the back of his neck…

He felt so weak, and even when he finally struggled to his feet, he barely managed it. Suddenly, a violent tremor shook the ground. The scorched dirt cracked and fell away in many places, leaving him and the demons trapped on a pillar of stone in the middle of disaster.

Step by nerve-wracking step, the demons approached. He stumbled over his own two feet, trying to escape, panic eating at him, until…

_Nothing._

He fell back into the smoky abyss, tumbling down, down as the demons' cruel laughter echoed around him and faded.

_This has happened before,_ he thought. _I know it. I've fallen like this before…_

And then the world ended.


	2. The Necklace

_Well, that was a weird prologue. It will all make sense in a little bit, though, so don't fret about it. Let's see what happened, shall we?  
_

* * *

It was dark. That is all that I remember. Dark and so silent, save for the pulsing of the ocean. A light breeze played about my face, ruffling my hair and whispering to me.

I was completely alone…

For a moment, I thought that I was still sleeping. That I was at home, lying half-awake in bed and would open my eyes to see the smooth green walls and woven vines of my house, underlit by the warm, coral light of the sun. Surely, I am still dreaming, I thought.

But as I opened my eyes and stared in disbelief at the cold, blue sky, I realized that it could never be.

_Don't you remember, Saavedro? You were exiled here. Stranded here all those years ago. Stuck here on this blasted island and its four other worlds._

But the name. What was the name?

The wind whispered its reply, seeming to echo in my ears for eternity.

_J'nanin._

I slowly stood, taking in the vast, bizarre landscape as if I had never seen it before in my life.

But I remembered it. I knew it all. The rocks, the reflector poles, the four strange tusks reaching for the sky – all were emblazoned in the far recesses of my memory, hidden from view. But what made me recall, I do not know.

How did I get here? I don't remember anything…

And why do I feel the faintest touch of anger?

_And Tamra?_

Spirits, was she even still alive?

She gave you something, I believe. A small piece of herself that you carry everywhere with you, lest you forget everything about her.

And it's the same thing that you are carrying in your satchel.

I fish around in my satchel, feel something smooth and hard. I withdraw it, holding it up to the light. The necklace is clasped tightly in my hand, the tiny crystal heart reflecting the light and making it dance like so many tiny embers. It is smooth and rosy pink, and preserved inside is the tiniest snippet of lattice vine. The crystal around it glowed with such light that I could have sworn it was a living, breathing world, that the vine was growing inside of it, that the crystal was the sky, and that I was observing it go on its way, growing and thriving.

It was her. It was a piece of her soul. And here, I held it in my hands.

Oh, Tamra, my love. Will I ever see you again?

----------------------------------------------

The air was comfortably warm, and the sun was shining cheerfully in the pink sky, illuminating the clouds and intertwining lattice roots with its rosy light. Inside and outside, Narayan glowed.

_Perfect,_ Saavedro thought. _Just like her._

He smiled to himself as he trimmed off a piece of overgrown lattice. Inside of the tough, aquamarine shell, the roots had a sticky sap that was tinted the slightest shade of pink, and as it hit the air, it began to harden into an amber-like resin. This sap was the way that the tree healed itself, and also acted as a glue that could bind grafts to the vines.

Saavedro stepped back to admire the newly-trimmed vines, then looked over at Tamra, who was working intently. He smiled and waved at her, trying to get her attention, but so busy was she that she took no notice.

_You love her, don't you? Then ask her to take your hand. Ask her to be yours._

The thought struck him as odd for the moment, but he regained his composure. He had nothing to propose with, and she was busy besides.

Suddenly, Saavedro had an idea.

Scooping off a layer of the sap and plucking a tiny piece of trimmed vine from the ground, he set to work on his gift for her, molding the sap around the vine, cutting off strips of his sash with the vine trimmers, braiding the pieces together and slipping them through the hole he had left in the now hardened sap.

Tamra continued to weave the vines, working carefully and steadily in the warmth of the sun. The light illuminated every curve of her body, blessing her bronze-tinted hair and beautiful face.

Saavedro again tried to catch her attention, this time succeeding. She smiled as she turned to face him, emerald eyes glittering, gave him a small wave, and returned to her work.

_Now. Ask her now._

He faltered a bit, slightly nervous now.

_What if she says no?_

_You have been together for a year now, Saavedro. If she had wanted to leave you, then she surely would have by now._

He sighed in nervous anticipation, then steeled himself and forced his legs to move.

Tamra continued to weave, molding the roots to the desired form, shaping them to her will. Completely oblivious to the tentative man approaching her.

Saavedro swallowed the gathering nervousness in his throat, then lightly touched her on the arm.

"Tamra?"

The goddess turned to look at him, emerald eyes twinkling.

"Yes?"

"You… I just wanted to say that you look beautiful in that robe."

Tamra smiled her modest, infectious smile, the one that Saavedro had fallen head over heels for.

"Why, thank you, Saavedro," she said politely. "What brings you here?"

"I… um…"

_You can do this, Saavedro, you can do this…_

"I wanted to… to ask you something."

Tamra finished entwining two smaller vines around each other, then stepped back to look at how they fit together with the rest of the wall she had finished.

"Well? What is it?"

"I… you… do you…? Here."

He held his hands out, cupped around each other. "There's something in there for you."

Tamra smiled, appreciating Saavedro's cute trick, but as soon as she got close to his hands, Saavedro moved them away, grinning.

Puzzled, Tamra tried again, but Saavedro pulled the same trick.

"Saavedro!" she half-shouted, half-giggled. "Let me see it!"

"Only if you say yes," he responded playfully.

"To what?"

Saavedro opened his hands, revealing the necklace that he had made earlier. The sap had been molded into the shape of a tiny heart, with the tiny lattice root in the middle of it. The rosy amber heart hung from a chain of braided fabric.

"Tamra," Saavedro started, taking a deep breath. _"Ami soule, _I love you. I have loved you since we first met, and I will still love you many years from now. I wish to be yours always; I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I only want to if you wish it… Do you?"

_Oh please oh please oh please by the Spirits above please say yes!_

Tamra was speechless as she took the necklace.

_Will she...?_

She slipped the braided fabric over her head, a smile playing about her lips.

_She likes it… Oh please please say yes!_

"I…" the excitement glowed on her face, and her eyes widened in joy. "I…"

She collapsed into Saavedro's arms, hugging him tightly.

"_Yes._"

-------------------------------------------------

Oh Tamra. How I miss you…

The necklace lies cold and hard in my palm, the tiny root just as fresh as the day I put it into the sap. It is all I have left now.

How could I ever have forgotten?

I must ensure that this never happens again. I must not forget… lest my memory of you die.

Oh Weaver… if that happened, I don't know how I could live with myself.

And my home… _Naray…_ I miss you, too.

I wish that I could go back home. But I know that this can never be.

The old days are finished, Saavedro. You cannot go back to the way things were before the exile.

But you do know that you cannot let yourself forget again.


	3. Young Vines

_I'm working on it, I'm working on it! I've been posting like mad and my lack of work is beginning to catch up with me... Oh well! Back to typing!  
_

_Bear in mind that I own none of this._

* * *

There is an odd and surrealistic beauty to this age named Edanna. The gently swaying branches, the soft rustle of leaves, the tiny creatures living in harmony with the larger ones – all of it felt so well-balanced and so peaceful, a tiny world in and of itself. And the plants – their sheer size still astonishes me, no matter how many times I visit. And they all have such myriad uses, some more obvious than others. 

I have always felt oddly comfortable here, being around all of the plants. Being of Narayani blood, one mantra has been practically hard-wired into my brain, into every fiber of my being: take care of nature, and nature will help take care of you. Yes, the natural feel of this world always calmed me down – though it did not ease the sorrow I felt upon realizing that I was still trapped for the Weaver knew how many more long, tedious years…

It does not do to dwell on that which you cannot change, Saavedro. You can't risk letting your mind wander, not here in Edanna, where it is very possible to get lost in the thick foliage and never return again.

Ahead of me, I spotted some blood-red flowers with brilliant orange stamens. The petals, when crushed, would make a dark reddish dye, perfect for using as ink, and about as close to black as I am ever going to get.

I pick several blossoms and set off down the pathway. Now, how to get back to the J'nanin linking book?

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The colorful flowers poke out of my satchel, looking for all the world like a flower bush had magically decided to grow there. Said satchel was one of the few personal possessions that I had, along with the necklace, still safely tucked inside. Other than that and a few art supplies, I had nothing else, least of all something to help clear away the numerous vines that kept batting at my face.

Suddenly, I felt my sandal snag one of the thorny vines under my feet. The spines sliced into my foot, and I fell face-first into a mossy clearing. Picking myself up and wincing as I did so, I check over my foot. It's bleeding profusely from three deep, jagged gashes, each no longer than my finger and about half as wide.

I sigh and sit down, dabbing at my wounds with a rag that I had found at the bottom of my satchel. With an injury that deep, I wasn't going much of anywhere for a while – least of all back to J'nanin. I would have to set up camp here for the night.

Fortunately for my injured foot, I spied a Healer's Bush (or so I had dubbed it) about three feet away, and pulled several large leaves off it. The leaves, I had found, contained a pain-killing, natural antiseptic and were sticky on one side, which made them doubly useful as a self-adhesive bandage.

Carefully, I slid my sandal back on and sighed again, already bored. I rummaged through my satchel and, on a whim, pulled out my sketchbook – something I had owned since I was very young and always carried with me. I was a good artist, there was no doubt about that, and I always had sudden ideas strike, sometimes at the most inopportune of times. If I didn't draw them, they would accumulate and bother me to the point of insanity – and they always hid in the least likely of places, such as a lamp, a vine, or another person. Sometimes I would find a quiet spot to sit and doodle, and sometimes I would just whip out the sketchbook and draw the things that I saw right then and there.

Flipping through the pages, I saw myself at all stages of life, from very young to my current age. I had dabbled with poetry at about fifteen, then decided that I didn't like it and switched to murals. I had switched to portraits at age twenty, then went briefly back to murals, and the remainder were doodles.

I hit a blank page and looked up at the scenery, studying it. Setting my pen to the paper, I began to draw.

Several things had struck my fancy at the moment, and I drew them, along with some sketches of and notes on the plants. At one point, a squee hopped into my line of view and actually stayed put long enough for me to draw it in detail.

Turning to get a better view of my surroundings, I noticed a flowering vine. Strange – I've never seen that type of plant in Edanna before.

Perhaps it was due to how tiny the vines were. This specimen was just starting to sprout and had just barely bloomed, but it was still beautiful, resplendent in lilac flowers splashed with red. The vine was covered in fine hairs that stood up when I touched them, as if the plant were a pet seeking a human's touch.

And somehow, it seemed familiar…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A worried Saavedro sat just outside of the bedroom.

_Oh, how I hope that she is okay…_

_She is not a weak woman, Saavedro. You of all people know this._

_True… so very true._

Wailing pierced the air, a testament to the pain Tamra was going through.

He sighed deeply and leaned against his hands, brow lined with worry. It had been a difficult past several months, what with Tamra's sudden mood swings and various symptoms. As of late, she had been unable to keep anything down, and this disturbed Saavedro greatly. She needed the extra nutrition in her state.

He couldn't help but smile a bit at that last thought. He recalled how only nine months ago, she had eaten ravenously, as if she had been slowly starving and only just then had gotten hold of food, only to ask for a fourth or fifth helping. It felt so long ago…

And now it was time for the baby to be born.

The constant cries had since died down, but now a new thought had swept into his mind.

_How?_ Saavedro thought. _How will I ever manage to help take care of a child? Of a family?_

"Saavedro?"

He turned to face the Healer. Her voice was soft and calming, though he felt no ease.

"Camíl," he asked, sensing the slight edge in his voice, "Is… is Tamra alright?"

Camíl smiled a gentle, reassuring smile and nodded.

"She is doing well."

"And she wishes to see me?"

"That is what I came out here to tell you. Follow me."

Saavedro stood, trembling with anticipation, and followed the Healer into the bedroom. There lay Tamra, looking tired but happy, and holding her newborn child.

"It's a girl," she said softly.

Saavedro was astonished and overjoyed. "Tamra… Oh… she's beautiful. May I?"

Tamra gently handed him the tiny being, which softly cooed as Saavedro held her close.

"Hello, little one," he murmured. "Welcome to the world."

The child opened her teal green eyes ever so slightly and grabbed her father's finger, and for the slightest moment, Saavedro could have sworn that she was smiling.

"She has your eyes, Tamra."

Silently, Camíl approached the couple, smiling.

"I see that you have made a crib for her already," she said. "You will need to add on another room for them later, but of course you already understand that."

"I have been planning that for several months now," Saavedro replied, taking his wife's hand in his. "We had planned to begin on it as soon as Tamra is feeling better… or perhaps whenever she feels like she can help weave again."

_The last thing I need for her is to overwork herself so soon after giving birth…_

Suddenly, he felt Tamra's grip tighten.

He looked to her in worry and confusion, fearing the worst.

"Tamra? What is wrong? Are you alright? Camíl, help!"

Tamra winced and looked up at her husband.

"I think… I think I - "

Camíl ran back up to the two.

"Is she going into labor again? Saavedro, take the baby, I'll help her!"

It was another thirty minutes or so of intense waiting, and the baby had started crying in all of the commotion, but eventually, another child's cries joined those of its sister.

Camíl helped to clean the child and handed her – a second daughter – to Tamra.

"Twins," Saavedro said in a half-choked whisper of astonishment. "Oh, Tamra…"

The second daughter peered up at her father through pale blue eyes.

"We shall name her Sírla," Tamra said, "And her sister shall be named Telaa."

"Two beautiful names," Saavedro responded, "For two beautiful daughters."

----------------------------------------------------------------

My daughters… Tamra…

Oh, how I pray that you are safe.


	4. Fate's Weave

_Back again with more of the story! I hope that you are enjoying this fanfic lots, I worked really hard to get it done, and I'm very proud of it. Here's the next chapter for your reading pleasure._

_I would like to thank the lovely and talented NebThauDragmire for being my first reviewer. Enjoy, Neb and others!_

_Please note that the bold-italics about halfway through this chapter are there to differentiate the communication from thought. You'll see why I've done this if you read the chapter, so get going!_

* * *

I stood a few feet from the blue button and its pedestal, staring at it. Ahead of me, the circular chasm yawned, black and empty, save for the gilded gold latticework cage that lay at the bottom of it – a tongue for the mouth-like pit. One false move when I was that close could send me tumbling into those dark depths.

Truth be told, I had never gone up here into the observatory before (I had found it to be locked), and so I wasn't sure about what I would find. There was nothing ominous up here, but still… that pit…

Feeling a bit woozy and nervous, I backed away from the edge of the chasm, clutching the blue button's pedestal for support. I must have accidentally pressed the button, because I felt it depress under my hand and heard a mechanical clacking as the three sconces on the wall opened. Strange – I had always thought that they were merely for decoration.

The sconces emitted three beams of light, each a different color, onto a single point on the ceiling, forming a fuzzy image of something. Eventually, it seemed to clear up into an image of a man wearing glasses.

… _That man… I… I know him…_

"My sons," the man said in a kind, soft-spoken tone. "I promised to teach you the secrets of my ages. This world is the first step on your journey. Search the island and you'll find three linking books. Each connects to an Age in which you will how learn more about how The Art works. Soon you will see that it is so much more than symbols on a page. You may choose any of the three tusks scattered around this island to begin…"

He continued his speech as I stare, dumbfounded, at the image.

_Your name… What is your name…? Who are you?_

* * *

The air was crisp and calm. A cool breeze blew from the east, making the otherwise stifling Narayani summer feel like spring again.

Saavedro sat cross-legged on the veranda, sketching all that he saw – clouds, vines, distant trees, the gondola swiftly moving forward along its cable –

_Wait…_

It was coming from the direction of the Learning Tree, with one passenger inside. Only children on school trips went there, mostly to learn about the way the tree worked.

Saavedro set his sketchbook aside, rather confused. Apparently, several other people were thinking the same thing, for several had gathered outside their own homes to watch the gondola draw nearer.

As it got closer, Saavedro could see the passenger more clearly. He was obviously male, and had short dark brown hair.

_Odd hair color,_ Saavedro thought. _Maybe he's from another village?_

The gondola docked at its station, which was not far from Saavedro's home. The man stepped out, looked around in what seemed to be a mixture of awe and amusement, then seemed to notice Saavedro and started walking towards him.

Now that the man was standing, Saavedro could see that the stranger was wearing glasses and very strange clothing, the likes of which he had never seen before. The oddness of this man made Saavedro feel uneasy, but he did nothing but stand as the man approached him and smiled.

"Hello," the stranger said. He was rather soft-spoken, yet his voice had an air of cordiality to it, and his smile was little more than a faint trace of amusement. "What is your name? What do you call this place?"

His words sounded strange and foreign to Saavedro, who was still feeling a bit tentative about approaching this man.

"Who… who are you?" He asked, sensing the tension in his voice. "What brings you here to Narayan?"

Now the man looked confused, but not altogether surprised. He turned away, presumably to think for a moment, muttering in that odd tongue to himself.

_So,_ Saavedro thought, still trying to ascertain exactly what was going on here. _He doesn't understand me? But I was speaking in plain Narani! I… I don't understand… Maybe I should try to introduce myself first?_

The man turned back to face him, an expression of curiosity on his face.

Saavedro made a gesture towards himself, trying to simplify conversation for the visitor.

"Saavedro," he said, pointing to himself. He pointed at the man and waited.

The man smiled his faint smile once again, and Saavedro couldn't tell if the visitor was amused at his effort to communicate or happy that he found a way to talk with him.

The man pointed to himself. "Atrus," he replied.

Saavedro was pleased with himself. This gestured language was working!

_**Where are you from?**_ he signed.

"Myst."

Saavedro was again confused. Myst? What was Myst?

The man continued to sign.

_**What do your people call this world?**_

"Narayan."

_**Which means something in your language?**_

'_**Woven by the People.'**_

Again, Atrus looked confused.

_**It is how we construct our buildings,**_ Saavedro signed in reply. _**We weave them from the vines that support the very tree you and I are standing on. All that you see here was woven by hand.**_

Atrus looked astonished at this new knowledge.

_**Is that not difficult to do?**_

_**It does take a very long time, but it is a labor of love for us. We support the tree, and it, in return, supports us. Such is the cycle of things.**_

Atrus was silent for the moment, thinking deeply on the things he had learned.

_**Will you –**_ He faltered a moment, not entirely sure of what to say. _**Will you… teach me more?**_

Now Saavedro hesitated a moment. He knew nothing about this man, save for his name and that he came from a place called Myst. How did he know that this man could be trusted? He didn't seem like someone that would have ulterior motives in mind…

_Perhaps this experience shall make me stronger…_

Saavedro looked at Atrus, smiling only slightly.

_**Yes.  
**_

* * *

"… Find three symbols, one in each age. Bring them here, to the scanner, and enter them. Then, my sons, you will see how an age is meant to be."

Yes… I know you now.

I remember.

Your name is Atrus…


	5. Distance

_Yes, I know. I've just been pumping chapter after chapter of this story out. And yes, I know that Saavedro's journal does not start in this way. But the events that he refers to in his journal I plan to occur much later in this story – and yes, I will fix this loophole in a later chapter, but for now… meh, you'll see later._

_I would like to take this time to thank my reviewers and fans, and you, of course, for reading._

_Well, let's go! Here's chapter four, all._

* * *

It has come to my attention that I must start keeping some sort of account of what is going on – my memories are no longer safe in my head. Memories are beautiful things, personal things. 

Unfortunately, they are also irreplaceable and easily forgotten.

I have felt myself lose them before. It felt like I was falling, surrounded on all sides by an ever-thickening, numbing haze. It was cold. Relentless. It would seize every part of me, seem to enter through my skin and freeze me like ice. It would try to coax me into forgetting. _Come away from there,_ it would tell me. _It is not safe. I won't let you be hurt any longer. I won't let you suffer…_

And then I would let go. I would forget all that I knew.

I'm sick of it.

This time, I'm going to fight back.

I opened my sketchbook to a few blank pages, took up my pen, and set it to the paper.

Spirits, what was the date again? Never mind, I'll just use page numbers.

_Entry one. I do not recall very much as of now. It has been so long. Oh, Weaver, how long HAS it been?_

_Fifteen years. I remember now. It's been fifteen long years here._

_Alone._

_The silence is stifling. It's as if the very walls wish to drive me mad. Sometimes, I think that I already am._

_I must document as much as I can remember in these pages. I cannot forget again…_

* * *

The air was thick with steam, making the already sweltering late summer heat even more so. Thousands of spores, each tinted with faint colors, floated like little feathers on the warm, rising air.

Saavedro and Atrus stood on the landing just outside the house, drinking in the sight.

"They are beautiful, Saavedro," Atrus said, eyes never wavering from the dancing spores.

"They are puffer spores," Saavedro responded. "They are what we use to make the rooms of our houses – and the bigger ones, the fully grown ones, we use to keep the tree in the air."

He turned to his friend and smiled.

"This is my home, Atrus. This is Narayan."

It had been several months since the pair had first met, neither knowing a word of the other's language. But bit by bit they had worked, teaching each other, encouraging each other, showing the way their worlds worked. And now – now, they seemed inseperable. Fate had woven their lives together – and both parties had grown stronger for it.

Saavedro was taken out of his reverie by a light tap on his shoulder.

"That one." Atrus was pointing to a single, tiny spore, touched ever so slightly with pink. "That one would support your daughters' room perfectly, I think."

Saavedro looked at it, studied it, then turned back to Atrus.

"Well chosen, my friend. Ready the net. I shall call it."

Atrus stood, the net outstretched between his hands, ready to be flung onto the spore. Saavedro reached into a pocket in his robes, withdrew a flute-like pipe, and began to play.

The music flowed through the air, distinct, reedy, and mellow, sounding for all the world as if the wind itself were singing. The tiny pink spore stopped in midair, as if to listen to the music, then began to travel towards it as though it were entranced by the song.

The tune, thought Atrus, was familiar. It was the gentle, soothing melody of a traditional song that Saavedro had taught him. A beautiful song that, Saavedro had said, was used as a lullaby and was a bit of an anthem for his world. Even the meaning of the words were beautiful, and Atrus could not help singing quietly to himself.

_Naray alani  
Naray latiste t'dee_

Saavedro heard the low murmur of Atrus' voice as he sung and smiled inwardly. Now – now Atrus understood. Now he knew the way Narayan worked. How, as Atrus netted the spore and dragged it onto the veranda, his people worked.

"Saavedro?"

"Yes?"

"Would you come help me secure this?"

Saavedro eagerly walked over to show Atrus how to secure the spore into the crevice they had woven, tucking the single vine they had left to protrude over and through a single gap in order to close the crevice. This way, the vines would expand and keep the spore caged as it grew.

The two friends stepped back to analyze their work, satisfied with a job well done.

"Saavedro, you have taught me much in these past several months," Atrus said. "This world – it is so well-balanced: your people's symbiosis relationship with the tree, the spores that keep the trees aloft… all of it. I could stay here forever and still be astonished. But I too have a family, and children of my own who are learning about the world… about Writing. My friend, I'm afraid I must leave you soon."

Saavedro was disappointed.

"I am sorry to hear that, Atrus," he replied. "But… you will come back, won't you?"

"I will. I promise I will."

"Perhaps you could bring your family with you some time. If your sons are anything like you, they will love it here."

Here, Atrus sighed, seeming to deliberate over something.

"I was wondering, Saavedro," he said, seeming to hesitate a moment. "Would you… would you be willing to show my sons more about Narayan? I always have so much work to do, and I'm not certain when I can bring them back myself. Would you, if I sent them to you, be willing to teach them as you have taught me?"

Saavedro looked surprised at this request a moment, but nonetheless stood there, thinking over Atrus' words. Finally, he met Atrus' eyes again and smiled.

"Any family member and friend of Atrus is welcome here in Narayan," he replied. "It would be my pleasure."

* * *

Saavedro, you fool. Why did you tell him yes? 

You were sealing your fate that day, and you never even knew it. Look where it's landed you now – stuck here for all eternity with no way back.

_Except for one?_

The imager…

Now I remember! The scanner… the imager… The cage.

In that cage was a book.

That book would surely lead to a place where I could be found. It might even go back to Atrus' home, and he surely would have a way back to Narayan from there.

There might be hope yet…

Fine, then. I'll humor you, Atrus. I'll play your little game, I'll find your symbols for you.

Tomorrow, I take on Edanna.


	6. Sick

_Been a bit, hasn't it? And now I'm suddenly updating the fic? Then again, I've just now been getting around to a bunch of other things, too…_

_Well, since I haven't been getting very many reviews (due to this section of FFN receiving so few viewers), here's chapter five – and here's also to hoping that I get some reviewers sometime in the future!_

* * *

The tiny silvery-furred creature stares up at me curiously, blinking its big, soulful eyes and chirruping softly to itself. It does not seem to fear me, and never has, though I have attempted to frighten others of its kin off before, and they all had stayed firmly resolute, mocking my pitiful attempts with their bravery. After all, what reason should it have to be frightened by me? Squees have no natural predators, and this is evidenced by their sheer numbers. It can live however it wants, it can go anywhere its little squee heart desires.

It can be free… unlike me.

The squee bounds off, probably in search of food, leaving me with nothing to do but sigh and stare at the faded blue silk of my robes. I still remember, though vaguely, that I had worn them to a festival. Tamra was there. She was laughing, and…

No, no, not this again! Think, Saavedro, you must remember it. You must –

And then, just as suddenly as I had recalled it, it was gone. Faded out of thought the way that age has faded my once splendorous attire.

You aren't here for memories, though. You're here to find that symbol. To be a pawn in this twisted game that Atrus calls a lesson.

I sigh again and force myself to continue down the path, through the tangle of endless vines and creepers coiling around each other like so many snakes. Leaves bat at my face as if inquisitive about my person, but I barely notice, so lost in contemplation am I.

I casually glance at a lambent orchid, hanging lazily in a rare pool of sunlight. Light that was refracted by one orchid, I recalled, could easily be sent from one orchid to the next, directing the refracted light from place to place. I had figured out a way to cross that tongue fern an hour ago, and I had known a bit about the area in that direction, but as of late, I was completely lost. In all my long exile, and in all my time spent here in Edanna, I had never gone this far down before – and it frightened me.

Carefully, so as not to lose my balance and fall into the green abyss below, I sat to think.

Maybe I'll draw something – that always makes me feel better.

Satisfied with this option, I took out my sketchbook and doodled absentmindedly, putting down anything my thoughts brought onto the paper. Again, as before, I exhausted all of the ideas that had come to me, and found myself searching the surrounding area for more, but found only a thick, draping vine covered in wilted lilac flowers, splashed with a hint of scarlet.

Wait.

I think I've seen this plant before.

As a matter of fact… I think I've drawn it before.

Flipping back through the pages of the sketchbook, I looked for a similar-looking drawing. It was not long before I found it – it was even colored with different paints. The same type of fine-haired vine, the same flowers, though much tinier in the image.

Yes, this _was_ the same plant as before.

But somehow, this plant looked different. The flowers had begun to wither, turning deeper and deeper shades of crimson as they died. The vine itself was covered in numerous purplish splotches, and the fine hairs had fallen off completely, leaving a layer of glossy down underneath the where the plant itself hung. But why?

I poked one of the bruises gently, wondering if this was anything like what happened to a sick lattice tree, and the vine's skin broke, releasing a clear, sticky substance that covered my finger and smelled vaguely like something acrid.

And right then, as I gazed at the rend that almost broke straight through the vine, I knew.

This vine was very sick… and the plant itself was dying.

* * *

The soft _whoosh_ of the gondola filled the air as Saavedro watched it approach the tree. Atrus was returning at long last, after an absence that had seemed forever. True, he and Saavedro had tried to keep contact, but it had been very difficult to do, and it had been some months since they had last talked face to face.

He looked over to Tamra, who was busy carving a Spirit Mask, a task that she had been working on for days now. The detail she had put into it was painstaking, and one was said to take their female carver (for it was considered a sign of disrespect towards women if a man carved one) at least a week.

So astonished by her artistry was he that Saavedro did not notice the gondola docking at its station. Tamra, however, did, and stopped carving long enough to silently point this out to her husband.

Upon turning to look at what she had pointed to, Saavedro noticed Atrus stepping out of the gondola and walked up to greet him.

"Atrus! It has been too long."

"It's nice to see you again, Saavedro," Atrus replied, smiling his trademark faint smile that seemed to border on amusement. "I see that you have been quite busy in my absence." Here, he gestured to the room that they had built together several months before.

"I have," Saavedro replied, before sneaking a glance at his wife. "We both have. And of your sons, how are they doing?"

Again, Atrus gave him that knowing smile and turned to help two people – both children – out of the gondola.

The first boy was undoubtedly older and rather stocky for his age, which appeared to be around ten or so. He seemed rather interested in the lattice tree before him, and especially in Tamra's carving, which he was watching with an interested eye. His hair was similar in color to his father's, but messier from roughhousing and probably from forgetting to comb it before coming to visit.

His brother, in contrast, was thinner and couldn't be older than perhaps nine. He was fascinated by the pink sky especially, and looked it over with a discerning, calculative eye, as if trying to decipher the meaning of it for himself. He looked at the tree itself with curiosity, but became disinterested, and didn't seem to notice the others at all. This brother seemed neater, more organized. Everything from his dark hair to his clothing seemed to have been immaculately worked on and nitpicked in order to seem fit for greeting a new person.

Both boys stayed silent, occasionally glancing at their father to see what he was doing. Atrus noticed this and smiled down at them warmly.

"Achenar? Sirrus? Aren't you going to say hello?"

* * *

They were so… different then. So innocent.

_But what happens when innocence is lost?_

I stare up at the sad, dying vine, now riven into two hanging tendrils, the clear liquid draining slowly onto the cold ground.

_Broken…_

One day, I swear that all this time alone will kill me. It will bend and break me in two, just like that vine, then leave the separate pieces hanging somewhere while my very life drains from me. I wonder what my last thoughts will be. I wonder what will happen to the empty shell that is left.

I tear my gaze from the two tendrils and continue on my expedition.

* * *

The trip down to the symbol is long and arduous, but I made it there nevertheless. Atrus' puzzles were infuriatingly hard, but nothing that he had thrown that way had proven too difficult or required too much work on my part.

I now sat, sketchbook in hand, writing the phrase before me, spelling out the individual Narayani words.

_Nature Encourages Mutual Dependence_

Atrus…

Those aren't your words. They aren't yours to write. If they belong to anyone, they belong to me.

How dare you? How dare you twist my people's language and put it into your worlds?

* * *

_Here. Take your words back._

My thoughts were bitter as I placed the phrase onto the scanner and watched as a blue light illuminated the page, making it seem to glow for a moment. A mechanical clicking resonated throughout the room, and I looked down to see the symbol being copied onto a metal plate. I looked back up just as the message began to play.

"Ah, I see that you have found the first symbol." The holographic Atrus smiled. "Well done. What you have learned thus far, you shall find, will help you not only in Writing, but also in life itself. I know that these lessons are difficult, but don't give up. Through persistence, you will persevere. I have the utmost confidence that you will gain access to the Narayan linking book within this cage…"

I stopped listening there.

The book in that cage…

It could take me home? After so many years here, I could finally return to my world, could finally see my wife and children again, and could finally forget all about Atrus and his infernal islands?

Oh, Weaver… this changes everything.


	7. Discordant Voices

_Chapter six! Whoo-hoo for chapter six! Just in case you all were wondering, this story has seventeen chapters including the prologue… six down, right?_

_Speaking of which, here's the sixth chapter to the gripping story that is Locusani – okay, so maybe not THAT gripping, but… Oh, never mind!_

* * *

Cold… So cold… and so very wet… 

Of all the times to come to Amateria, Saavedro, why during a downpour? You knew it was supposed to rain, everything that you had on this age's weather patterns was screaming that at you. You've already been here for who knows how long – what difference could another hour or two possibly make?

The rain poured down in buckets, drenching me to the skin, but I ignored its chill, so intent was I on guiding the fragile ice ball safely down its track. I was attempting to get it to roll effortlessly down a long metal chute that acted as a sort of bridge – the third stumbling block that this miserable place had thrown at me.

Wasn't that just like Atrus, though? Send me out of my mind through his arcane lessons, baiting me with the promise of home?

I watched as the ball rolled towards the chute – and shattered.

That was the tenth time it had shattered on this puzzle alone! I had already tried every possible combination, and was very close to giving up, but I knew that there had to be some hidden secret, some other piece of the puzzle that was hidden in some random location.

_But it can't be too far from the puzzle itself… can it?_

No… Atrus' mind traps are difficult, but not that difficult.

I stared at my warped reflection in the algae-infested pools near the platform, thinking, replaying the shattering iceball in my head, over and over, until…

It hit me. Just like that, it hit me.

_There's no balance between the two sides._

* * *

"Please, won't you all listen?!" an Elder commanded in his forceful voice. 

Several of Narayan's older citizens quieted down, but several of the more rebellious, cocky youths would do nothing of the sort and continued to state their distaste, yelling that the adults "didn't understand what other possibilities existed outside their own world" and "only wanted to hold them back as children".

One extremely hot-tempered young woman by the name of Lashiiva was pointing accusingly at the Elder who had asked the crowd to calm down, refusing to lower her tone even one notch.

"I refuse to listen to you, and why should I?" she barked. A few of the adults sent sharp looks in her direction, and several other adolescents shouted their approval.

"You," she continued, her confidence apparently bolstered by her peer's shouts, "Have spent your entire life bound to the Tree; you have no life left!"

The Elder, whose name was Cielan, did nothing as she continued screaming, silently taking the verbal abuse. Again more shouting filled the meeting hall.

Saavedro sat in the midst of it, the overwhelming tension feeling for all the world like a shadow, wrapping sinuous arms around all here and sowing doubt into their minds.

_How could she say such bitter, spiteful things?_ He wondered angrily. _This world is her home – it supports her, as she should support it. She must realize that the things she speaks of would bring about the death of Narayan entirely…_

"We understand that you are young and rebellious," a female Elder named Daari interjected, "And that you are perhaps a bit anxious to see what lies beyond your world, but we – all of us – cannot forget our part in the Cycle of Life. Our people have woven the roots for thousands of years. We cannot simply abandon those traditions in order to chase some wild fantasy in some other world."

More uproar emerged from the gathered throng, mostly from the youths. Tamra had been clutching Saavedro's had tightly during the entire speech; now she was holding on so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

"Saavedro," she pleaded in a frightened whisper, "You are a far more confident speaker than I. Say something! I beg of you, please – this cannot bode well for Narayan."

Saavedro could only give his wife a sad smile, for he could think of nothing to say that would change the minds of these young rebels.

"I wish I could, Tamra," he whispered. "I wish I could."

In the back of the room, Sirrus and Achenar both stood up, Sirrus signaling for quiet so he could speak. Instantly, the majority of the adolescent attendees grew silent.

"Respectfully, Elders Daari and Cielan," he announced, "I will have to disagree with your previous statements. I assure you, we only have Narayan's best interest in mind."

"We do realize that our revelation concerning the instability of your world is very shocking, indeed," Achenar added, "But -"

"But nothing," Elder Daari countered. "Sirrus, Achenar, we have told you time and again that we would _consider_ your idea of 'fixing Narayan's instabilities', but only if everyone agreed – and they most clearly do not. Therefore, we reject your plan, however helpful you two perceive it to be. You are not to speak of, nor present any Narayani citizen of this or any other Tree with, the item that you call a linking book. Is that clear to both of you?"

Sirrus' expression did not waver for a moment, save for a small, barely visible smile, not unlike that of his father's.

"We understand."

* * *

I stepped away from the chair and surrounding ice fragments, vision swimming, and feeling as though I had fallen off of the top of the observatory back on J'nanin. That little impromptu ride in that oh-so-fragile sphere of ice that now lay shattered on the floor had left me very shaken and feeling incredibly ill – the ride itself was something I was quite glad to have ended. 

Fortunately, I hadn't eaten prior to linking here.

Unfortunately, I still felt like I was going to be sick.

The symbol lay ahead of me, formed by the veins of glowing blue mineral that ran throughout the odd, hexagonal rocks. I would think it to be a rather stunning sight, save for the fact that I still felt queasy. However, I did manage to withdraw my sketchbook and scrawl

_Dynamic Forces Spur Change_

without too much trouble.

I now found that I was standing at the end of the walkway. There, on a roofed pedestal, sat a lone J'nanin linking book.

I eventually gathered enough strength to actually link, praying that I didn't lose it upon arrival.

I did.

* * *

One step closer. I'm one step closer to going home. 

I watched the golden cage in the central pit open, like a flower that is just beginning to bloom, and the hologram played once more.

"There. You have brought the second symbol. You are doing well already, my sons. However, you still need one more symbol in order to see what wonders lie inside the book it holds. Find it, and the Age of Narayan will finally be accessible to you."

So close.

I'm _so close…_

Yes... I _will_ get home... even if it kills me.


	8. Finality

_I'm back! Here is the much awaited seventh chapter of Locusani. This chapter starts in a different way than normal – this time the flashback comes first. Are you all ready to read the second-to-last chapter of the first part of Locusani? (Wow, I'm already almost halfway done? Doesn't feel like it…) If you are, then enjoy as always. If not… tough toenails._

* * *

_Fire._

It was everywhere, consuming everything it encountered, ensnaring person and vine alike in its greedy grasp. Vines snapped off and fell, flaming, to the ground, spores instantly burned in a mesh of creeping flames.

The screams of the doomed seemed to echo endlessly as Saavedro ran, desperately clinging to Tamra's hand. Two tiny children, both no older than five, clung to their mother tightly, scared and crying for home.

Saavedro watched, horrified, as a man was ambushed by and viciously stabbed by another man. The victim fell to the ground, pleading for mercy, but the attacker took no heed and continued his assault; blood splattered the lattice root walls, the attacker, and the floor.

"Girls, come away!" Tamra cried, ushering her daughters away from the cruel sight as quickly as she could.

Yes, it was true that the War had been going on for at least three years prior, and it was true that people had died – but it was nowhere near as bad as this. All the burnings and ambushes that had happened as of late paled in comparison to this. Already he could feel the tree beneath them beginning to crumble, the roots being licked by the fire that spewed acrid smoke into the air and turned the coral sky blood red.

But what could he do? He was only one man, and there was no way…

Sirrus and Achenar. He had nearly forgotten about them. Surely they could help!

Raising his voice over the roaring flames, Saavedro shouted to his wife.

"Tamra! I'm going to find the boys! I think they can help us! Take –"

A flaming vine landed in front of him, missing where he stood by mere inches. He edged around it as best as he could and continued.

"Take the girls with you! Go down to the reef, the fire shouldn't reach you there! I shouldn't be gone too long if all goes well."

Saavedro now turned to face Telaa and Sírla, who peered up at him, frightened. It pained him to leave his family to fend off who knew what like this, but it was the only way…

"Girls," he half sighed, "Daddy needs to go talk to someone, okay? You have to listen to mommy. Can you do that for me?"

Telaa merely nodded, while Sírla murmured a quiet "okay."

"Be strong. I love you both so much, my young vines."

Saavedro hugged both girls in turn, then looked to Tamra and clasped her hands tightly in his.

"Be careful Saavedro," she said, never taking her eyes off of him for a moment, not even as she leaned over to gently kiss him.

"_Memondama ami soule,"_ Saavedro whispered, pulling away from her sweet embrace. He was about to leave, but Tamra stopped him by laying a hand on his shoulder.

"I… Take this."

She undid the tiny knot that clasped her necklace – _his_ necklace – around her neck, and placed it into his hands. Saavedro looked at it, blinking in disbelief for a moment.

"Oh, Tamra… your… I can't."

"Take it. You might just need a little extra luck."

Saavedro gave Tamra a pained smile, and he wanted to say something more, but at that moment a wall a few yards away exploded, blowing shrapnel everywhere.

"I love you!" he shouted, hoping that Tamra could hear him. Separated from his family and unsure of what to do next, he ran.

* * *

He felt the link more than he saw or heard it.

He had seen the brothers on the edge of the gondola platform. They were talking about something. Achenar had a book. He opened it, touched the page, and…

_Gone._ He was gone, just like that, leaving behind only a curious sound the likes of which Saavedro had never heard before. Sirrus had followed suit.

He was curious. He had wanted to know. He needed to tell them what was wrong, hoped they would help his rebuild it.

There was no time. The tree was dying – quickly. It shuddered in pain, and not quite knowing what else to do, he had grabbed the book and entered the gondola, setting it to head full-speed towards the nearest tree he could find – the tree that Atrus had come from years ago.

Where was he now, still busy with experiments, perhaps?

He had no time to think now. He needed to leave, to catch the brothers before it was too late.

And so, he found the pedestal downstairs and placed the book on it, then finally opened the cover to see how it worked.

It was marvelous. A bright, swirling panel showed the world it lead to – strange and intriguing. Now he absolutely had to know what happened.

He reached out to touch the panel.

Within a fraction of a second, he felt something grab his arm, felt it pull him forwards, heard that strange roaring, shifting noise in his ears. He saw, through fuzzy vision, his hand disintegrate before his eyes… then his arm… then his body…

The feeling was heart-wrenching and stomach-churning, as if someone had pushed him from the top of the tree and he was freefalling. He cried out in horrified surprise, but heard no sound as his vision blacked out.

He never did get a good look at his surroundings upon feeling himself become whole again.

Perhaps if he had, he would have been able to defend himself from the metal pipe that had swung suddenly at his head.

* * *

I listened uneasily to the hiss of lava bubbling only mere feet below me. Heat is not the thing I want to think about right now – my mind is already preoccupied with other things, like remembering what had happened… 

_I remember there were flames everywhere… and Tamra had the necklace..._

It hadn't been easy to turn that fan on, but I had managed – something was wedged tightly into the control in the other room, and try as I might, I could not dislodge it. I'm not sure who put it there or why, but I do remember it being there last time I visited Voltaic. Perhaps it has always been there, but if it has, I don't remember. In any case, I couldn't do what I needed to with it in the way, and so I had been forced to go the long way around.

The lava below and the cold metal walls in this age were not helping to ease my thoughts any, and as I had already finished this task, I uneasily lowered the platform on which I stood, hoping that somehow the lava would drain out as I reached the ground.

To my great relief, it did.

Bolstered by the fact that I now knew that I could not feasibly burn to a crisp as long as I was here, I turned and left the room, still trying to recall all that had happened – and my mind just as fervently trying to shroud them in the Fog.

* * *

The final symbol I had found was incredibly difficult to draw, since it was hovering about twenty feet above the ground, and I was in a building hovering something like thirty feet above the ground – and I wasn't exactly looking forward to falling that distance.

I clung to the silver rungs that lined the wall, wondering why Atrus had put a symbol in such an obviously dangerous location as this. With one hand, I hastily scribbled

_Energy Powers Future Motion_,

looked franticly for the book back, and linked immediately upon finding it.

* * *

_This is it. Home. I'm almost there…_

I placed the drawing evenly on the scanner, watching as the eerie blue light consumed the symbol on it.

And there – finally! – the walkway extended, and Atrus' face showed up again on the hologram.

"You've done well, my sons," he said.

Oh yes, Atrus. They've done well. _Very_ well. The result of their deeds is staring at you right now.

"This will be the first time I'm sending you to an inhabited age alone – but don't be afraid. The knowledge you've gained will show you the way in."

I stepped along the pathway, the hologram still playing above my head. I brushed my fingers across the cover of the book, tried to remember the letters Atrus had taught me, slowly read the word aloud.

_Narayan._

I opened the cover with a trembling hand, stared at the panel inside.

_Alani…_

"Use it, and see all that Narayan has to offer."


	9. Breaking Point

_This is it – the halfway point. This is the last place where you can catch a train back to Sanity-ville, for this is quite simply the last time that you're going to see the main character sane in this story. I won't resent you if you get off now, leaving all of this behind, never to know how Sugary ends this tale. I won't seek you out and kill you in a vengeance-fueled killing spree. I promise. I really won't mind if you just set this story down where you found it, leaving it to some unknown fate which it will have to get through on its own. It won't care… so why should you?_

_Okay, okay, I apologize for letting a certain Mr. Lemony Snicket sneak into that pre-chapter note… well, no actually I don't. So there!_

_Enjoy chapter eight, though FFN is labeling it as chapter nine because I have a prologue in this story, and it doesn't make any mention of prologues. But it's really chapter eight. Yes, I promise._

_  
**WARNING**: **This chapter gets a bit graphic and disturbing at points, and therefore is probably not suitable for children under certain ages to read and/or hear. Alternatively, if you have a weak stomach concerning blood and injury, you may wish to skip over parts of this chapter or all of this chapter entirely, though the latter is not recommended.**_

* * *

I stumbled upon arrival, nearly tripping and falling onto the woven mat floor, and tried to get my bearings. I had never liked linking, even when it was necessary, and especially not now. 

Upon getting my senses back in order, I took a look around and felt a sense of deep accomplishment and excitement. The first thing I noticed were the vines, smooth and cool to the touch, just as I had always remembered them… and always would.

_You may take me from the tree, but it shall always call me home…_

My feet, sandaled though they were, felt the woven mat floor's softness even through the shoes' soles, and it felt familiar and comforting – nothing like the endless, scorching sand and rocks of J'nanin that I had grown so accustomed to. The ceremonial tapestries were still there, hung by those who lived and died long before my time after finishing the tree's construction. To this day they were there, regal in red and gold thread, and I couldn't help but brush a hand over the symbols' velvety softness.

_Balance._

_Time._

_Question._

_Weave._

_I'm home._

Yet something didn't see quite right, something wasn't the same. Maybe it was the staleness of the air, or how cold and lifeless it all felt. Perhaps it was the strange blue light that filtered even through the spore's walls, tinting them the teal-green of the sea, or maybe the large, blue orb over by the doorway made the atmosphere feel gloomy.

I walked over to the orb and noticed that the air around it was much colder that the air in the rest of the room. On a hunch, I pressed my palm to the surface. It was as cold as ice.

_You _do_ remember what ice here in Narayan is like, don't you?_

I already knew the answer, but tapped the icy orb anyway. A hollow sort of ring resonated through it, filling the room with an eerie tone. Even the spot where my hand had been had no signs of melting.

Of course not. It's some sort of shield, used to protect the tree.

But why?

Never mind, the reason does not matter. I must open this shield, or at least try to find some way to open it, as breaking through will be impossible.

I turn, noticing two posts connected by a thick wire. In the middle of the wire, there is a switch. The mechanism must run on some form of power - perhaps electricity, like in Voltaic. On a whim, I fiddle with the lever, pointing it towards the first post.

The first post raises, and the second one lowers.

Curious now, I walk over to the post and tap the orb on top. The upper half flips open, revealing numerous word-entry panels.

_The symbols… of course!_

I reach into my satchel and retrieve the pieces of paper I had written the symbols on earlier… wait, pieces of paper? I could've sworn I'd written them in my sketchbook!

The sketchbook must be wearing with age… I'll have to find some way to get a new one when I get back home.

Looking at the three symbol-poems in my hand, I realized that these had to be the symbols needed.

Which meant that Atrus had built it for his sons to use.

Carefully, I entered Edanna's poem first.

The coils glowed upon finishing the symbol. Perfect! I was now a step closer to opening that shield.

Trepidation and excitement began to fill me now, so much so that I could barely control it as I entered Amateria's poem into the second panel.

Success! Only one more…

My fingers were shaking, and it became difficult to enter Voltaic's poem into the final panel, but I somehow managed, and I heard an odd, roaring noise as the shield melted.

The bluish light remained, however, and I became confused.

I was no longer confused as I stepped through the new doorway I had opened.

I saw the gondola, hanging there just as I had left it years ago, stark against another icy shield. The ice was opaque in places, making it very difficult to see much of anything beyond it.

But… no, it can't be! It isn't…

_Possible?_

I felt fear begin to creep into my veins, and I ran back into the door again. But… the control panel I used had only had three panels, didn't it?

This can't be right. There's a way to bypass that shield. There has to be!

A sickening thought occurred to me then.

_If Atrus made this mechanism… then did he…?_

No, no! Atrus would never do that. He doesn't think in that way!

_You have no idea how he really thinks…_

He couldn't have… he wouldn't really mean to trap me here, would he?

Maybe… maybe he… _wanted_ to keep me in here?

No, Saavedro, stop it! Stop thinking such things! A friend doesn't trap his friends!

_Or abandon them…_

He didn't abandon me. He wouldn't! He was busy, that's all, just really busy.

_Too busy to check up on you?_

Stop it! Let me think…

There's a… there's a lever. Upstairs. It's there. Maybe it…

Quickly, I ran up the metal staircase, at times taking two steps at once.

What I found was appalling.

The shield was still there, of course. But here, there was a single thin spot in the ice. Through that thin spot in the ice, I saw a tree, decimated beyond all belief.

Narayan can't survive without the tree.

There are other trees, too, but not a single light. Not a single sign of life is visible through the thinner spots in this section of the ice wall.

But… if it's… Narayan is…

_Dead._

No.

_Dead._

No! No, it can't be true! It's not dead, it can't be!

_You saw it burn. You watched, helpless, as the tree was consumed in flame…_

No, leave me alone! I'm not the only one left… Tamra…

…_is dead._

I felt a chill immediately flood my body, numbing me, slowly killing me…

NO! She's not dead, she's _alive. ALIVE,_ I tell you!

_You saw no gondola fleeing. You did not see three tiny figures by the roots. There's nothing back there, they're all dead – even the trees. The trees are slowly rotting from the inside out, and you can't do a thing to stop it. If anything… you're going the same way as they are…_

Oh, Weaver, no! I don't want to die… I don't!

_Saavedro, you're losing it… you'll drive yourself mad…_

Leave me alone… I… They have to be alive!

_If they're alive, why didn't they send someone to check? Surely a big shield would arouse their suspicions…_

Yes, but… No, I'm not hearing things, I'm not! I'm…

No… my whole family… my home…

_No…_

* * *

The pain… 

The pain was so intense, so blinding… his head felt like it was going to explode…

_Voices… I hear voices… who…?_

"…awake yet? It's not polite to sleep through a discussion… awake? Saavedro…"

His vision swam as he slowly opened his eyes, revealing little more than muted blurs surrounded by flashes of black.

"Hello, Saavedro... Nice to see that you've come around."

It was nighttime, he could tell that much… but everything else was so fuzzy; the man's words barely registered as coherent. But still… Saavedro knew that voice.

He struggled, trying to speak the words that he so desperately wanted to, but only succeeding in muttering a quiet moan of pain.

A stinging slap across his face made his head ring in agony.

"Why, you little… wake up, already!"

"Stop yelling at him, brother dear, he's already got enough to deal with without your abuse," another voice, this one more even and slick in tone, said. "Besides, we both know that I have always been better with words."

"Oh, shut up."

Saavedro tried again to catch their attention, frustrated that it was taking such an effort.

"A... Ach…"

"Hey, I think he's trying to say something!"

"…Ach…Achenar?"

His vision was beginning to clear; he could now see the faint outline of Achenar step back… was he smiling? Saavedro couldn't tell…

"Sirrus, I think he's awake!"

"Is he? Brilliant! This should be interesting…"

Saavedro tried to stand, his every movement making pain blast through his head with concussive force. He felt weighed down… wait, his arms… his legs… why wouldn't they move?

To his profound horror, he realized that his legs and wrists had been bound together behind his back. Now he felt the cold, metal pole that he was tied to… now he felt the ropes cutting into his wrists…

"Sirrus…? Boys… what is…?"

"Sorry, I'm afraid I can't speak with you just this moment." Sirrus seemed to be piling something up, perhaps kindling to make a fire. "You seem to be tied up at the moment…"

"I… Help… Help me…"

A sharp kick to the side of his leg again sent waves of pain through his head, which was still pounding. Sirrus stopped working on the pile and lent in close to Saavedro.

"What?"

"I need… help… Narayan…"

"What's wrong with it?"

"…war is… the tree is dying… I can't… You must help me…"

"So, Narayan is dying… and you want us to help you?"

"Please…"

Achenar and Sirrus looked at each other for a moment, as if conveying a message through some sort of mental link that only siblings shared, and Saavedro thought that perhaps they were thinking of a plan.

Suddenly, both brothers burst out laughing hysterically, as if Saavedro's comment had been some sort of joke.

_But I'm serious!_

"Ah, I'm sorry, I'm afraid I misheard you. I thought that you said that something was wrong with Narayan, but…"

"It is… Sirrus, please…"

Instead of looking shocked, Sirrus was smiling wickedly, like a predator about to close in on its prey.

It was not his eerie grin but what he said next that took Saavedro by surprise.

"We know."

_What?_

He didn't understand. Sirrus had shown such a great interest in Narayan's politics, and Achenar had been so attentive to detail, and they had both been such good students, and, and…

"It's not you, Saavedro," Sirrus continued as he stood up and strode to join his brother behind the fire. "You're an excellent teacher. Too bad that we weren't much interested in your lessons… You did manage to teach us something, however. Do you remember what it is, or do I have to remind you?"

"I… You… Why?"

"Why?" Achenar seemed incredibly amused, and he stood up, his voice raising to a yell. "Why?!"

He giggled manically and started dancing around the fire, repeating "why" in a sneering, mocking tone.

"That will, do, Achenar!" Sirrus yelled, sending his brother a sharp look. Achenar sat down, thoroughly disappointed.

"Now, since you are a teacher, and we are the students," Sirrus continued, "We thought that it would only be fitting for us to have a final test over what you've taught us."

"Hope you've studied," Achenar piped up sarcastically.

Saavedro felt a cold, metal blade slip between the ropes that bound his wrists, severing their cruel hold. He fell, face first, into the sand, managing to get a good deal of grit in his mouth in the process, but before he could get up, he felt one of the brothers pin him down.

"Those symbols that your people use," Achenar said, "Are truly amazing. I mean that."

Saavedro turned and saw Achenar's hand pick up a wicked-looking dagger that was lying on the ground, inches from his face.

"The curving, looping designs," Achenar continued, "Are fascinating… I have always admired your technique when it came to weaving, but I could never pick it up myself. I'm too… _differently-minded_ to comprehend that sort of thing."

He giggled, and Saavedro had a sudden, sick feeling that Achenar was going to do something terrible to him.

"In fact, the symbols look almost akin to the vines themselves," Achenar said.

He suddenly leaned in close, so close that Saavedro could feel Achenar's breath upon his neck.

"Would you like to know what my favorite symbol is?"

A minute passed before a response came.

The response was one of pain as Saavedro felt something cold and metallic slice into the skin on his back.

The cuts were precise – and agonizingly slow. Saavedro was certain at this point that Achenar would soon kill him, effortlessly letting the dagger slip between a pair of his ribs and through his rapidly beating heart, but nothing of the kind happened. Achenar merely kept cutting, making the wounds deeper, reveling in his victim's pain.

Achenar didn't stop there. He began to slash Saavedro's arms, giggling sadistically.

"Achenar, will you…? Achenar, that's enough!"

It took all of Sirrus' strength to pull Achenar off of Saavedro's mercilessly tormented body.

"I was having fun, Sirrus!" Achenar protested. "Let go!" He flailed, but Sirrus would not get off.

"Achenar, at that rate, you're going to kill him, and this plan will not work unless he is alive!"

Achenar stopped flailing his arms and sighed ruefully.

"Fine," he said. "Now get off!"

Sirrus let go of his brother and walked over to Saavedro's prone form to survey the damage. Saavedro was bleeding from multiple wounds, mostly to his back, where thick red lines had etched a single Narayani symbol into the flesh.

"You are a sadistic monster, Achenar," Sirrus said after a brief moment. "But your methods are incredibly effective."

"I never got to finish my statement about what symbol was my favorite," Achenar sulked.

"I believe there is no need for that," Sirrus responded as he grabbed the bleeding man and roughly tied him back to the post. "I'm sure that Saavedro can read perfectly fine on his own. But just in case he can't see the symbol…"

Sirrus grabbed a stick from the fire and etched, in Narani, the word "chaos".

Saavedro stared at the symbol in shock, not because of what the symbol read, but because he still was shaking from Achenar's brutal assault. He could still feel blood oozing from the wounds, staining and tainting everything that it touched.

"I believe that it is now time to leave Saavedro to recover, my dear brother," Sirrus said as he withdrew a linking book from his coat pocket. In the faint glow from the fire, Saavedro could see that it read "Myst."

"Here is where we must part, Saavedro," he said. "I regret to say, however, that you will not be following us."

He opened the book and held it out to his brother.

"After you."

Achenar walked over, and, giving a final manic grin in Saavedro's general direction, linked.

Sirrus held the book over the fire, blazing in delight as the flames jumped eagerly in an effort to get at the cover.

A wave of sickly panic washed over Saavedro as he realized what Sirrus was intending to do.

"No, Sirrus! Don't!"

"I certainly hope that you enjoy your stay on J'nanin, Saavedro. You're going to be here a very, _very_ long time."

"Please don't leave me trapped here! No…"

Saavedro struggled with the bonds futilely as Sirrus placed his hand onto the panel and disappeared, the roar of the link being joined by the roar of the fire as it devoured the book. Saavedro's desperate screams that no one was left to hear joined in a second later, and the flames licked at the cover, curling the pages and reducing this vital way out to little more than ashes…

…and all that he could do as all this occurred was watch in horror.

* * *

_Dead._

_Dead._

_Dead._

Stop it! Please… please just leave me alone… Stop…

The sound of another voice startles me, and I jump back, half expecting the worst. But there is, of course, nobody here in this place except for me, nothing but me and the gondola that never moves – an empty, false promise of getting home.

I laugh bitterly. I see now. I get it…

The voice had been my own.

_Well, now you know that you've lost it…_

I haven't lost it! I _haven't!_ I'm not crazy…

Spirits above, I can't take this anymore! I…

The game is over. You win, Atrus. I submit. You've finally broken me… Please, get me out of here!

_You fool. He'll _never _come back for you. He doesn't care about you anymore…_

No!

_He didn't care about Narayan…_

Stop it! Please… I…

_There is no way out, and there never was. You're going to live alone on J'nanin for the rest of your miserable life, and when that's finally broken you down, you'll die there as well._

This… I can't…

"_Why?!"_ I scream, as if my pleas could break the icy shields, break them down the same way that I had been broken, but the only reply I got as I collapsed in anguish was a cold echo of my own words, as if the very walls were mocking me.

And even that was not nearly as torturous as the silence that followed, broken only by my unanswered cries for mercy in the form of tears.


	10. Awakening

_Hello again! First of all, I'd like to thank everyone for the lovely reviews thus far. Those reviews make my day! Second of all, I have a little bad news – since school is coming up shortly for me, I may not have much time to update Locusani, as I will be busy with other stuff. With any luck, this story may have its final chapter posted by Christmastime this year. However, I am making an effort to get as much done as I can, and therefore, here's the next chapter of the story. I hope that you enjoy reading it!_

* * *

_­­­­­­­_

_Running… running… running…_

_The room was closing in, stretching out; the door was ever farther and farther away and he couldn't reach it._

_But he had to get out. He had to…_

_The door was now within reach, within inches of his outstretched fingertips. As if for dear life, he clamped onto the handle, yanked the door open, and flung himself into the room._

_He grew cold at what he saw, barely able to suppress a shudder._

_Ice. The entire room was nothing but a sphere of ice. The only sound was that of cold, echoing laughter, faint but stinging._

_He spun back towards the door and had to stifle a cry of horror._

_The door was gone._

* * *

I had barely realized that I had fallen asleep until I heard my terrified screaming echo through the room, tearing me from my nightmare. The icy shield glared at me from across the room, indifferent to my staring. It seemed to taunt me silently, to mock my inability to escape.

I looked then to the machines that controlled the cruel shields, looking for all the world like tiny soldiers keeping me as their prisoner.

_Trapped like an animal in a cage…_

I began to feel even colder now, and I huddled against the heavy tapestries, wrapping them about me for warmth. They were soft. Friendly. They were all that I had left. And so, I clung to them, scared to death that if I let go, they would disappear from existence.

Carefully, I picked up the bottom edge of one of them and began tracing the symbols with my finger absentmindedly.

_Weave._ It was a smooth symbol-word, the curves pleasing and calming. It whispered of ancient things, spoke of history, of tradition, of certainty.

_Time._ A more infinite symbol-word, it seems to ask "When?" It never questions anything else but that – and in return, it is never questioned. I question it. I ask "How long has it been?"

_Question_ is enigmatic and confused. I wonder why this happened to me. I wonder what the last thing my wife ever saw was.

_Sorrow_ hangs low, darkening all hope. Oh yes, I am familiar with this. Very familiar.

_Fear_ is yet another thing I am familiar with. It is small, timid, wells inside of you and bursts forward. It is a threat, a threat that cannot be eliminated. I fear what I don't know – and now, I fear what I do.

_Anger._ Spiky. Lethal. Dangerous. It asks me why I don't do anything. It mocks me, mocks my inability to do anything but sit and stare dumbly at it. And I understand it now. I understand it perfectly…

Why me? WHY!?

_Tamra is dead… never get out…_

Leave me alone!

The world is tinted red. I see sparks before my eyes. After that, I remember nothing.

I remembered again upon standing still, shaking. The world's tint gradually fades to its normal colors, and I feel myself beginning to calm…

_There is nothing you can do…_

I know. I know. I have no doubt about this.

What am I holding onto?

I look at the gold and red cloth in my hands and feel a wave of revulsion wash over me.

Oh no… I didn't...

There is a single empty bar where the tapestry once hung, a ring of fabric still left on it.

_Oh Weaver have mercy, I just tore down one of the ceremonial tapestries…_

The fabric slipped from my hands, and I must have stood there a good ten minutes praying to the spirits and ancestors for forgiveness before taking the tapestry back up in my arms.

_I cannot just leave it here. I must find a safe place for it…_

I found a spot for it in a little metal bunker at the top of the stairs. It had been left unlocked, for what reason, I do not know, but it appeared to be a storage area for tools. Carefully, I folded the tapestry and lay it on an empty shelf, whispered a final short prayer for it, and left, shutting the door behind me.

There is truly nothing left for me here. I accept that now. There's absolutely no way for me to get home.

_Dead._

Stop it!

At least I could go back to J'nanin, or I could try. There has to be a book somewhere, and it's certainly warmer there than it is here…

_You want to go back there for something more than warmth. More than survival. As a matter of fact, I think that you no longer want to survive…_

What do you mean by that?

_You want to end it. Now. You want to be reunited with your people. There's only one problem. You are alive._

Are you insinuating that I…?

No. NO! I will not kill myself! That is ridiculous.

_You want to see your wife again, don't you? You can't unless you are equal to her._

Stop telling me that! I know… I know! I…

_You could end it now. Throw yourself from the tree and leave all of this behind. This torment, this misery…_

I am getting incredibly sick of you…

Still, the idea is tempting…

_Dead… It's all gone… The last of your people… Join them…_

* * *

It was nighttime in J'nanin when I linked in, and I had to stop to let my eyes adjust to the darkness before I could go any further. I soon realized that I was standing somewhere near the top of the observatory, probably on the cliff adjacent to the door, and I was about four feet from the edge.

It was a beautiful night, warm with a slight breeze. The stars – millions upon millions of them – were out, shining like drops of liquid diamond. The lake below the cliff mirrored them, transforming the placid water into a chasm of stars into which one could fall forever.

_If I were to fall…_

I edged towards the blackness below.

No! No…

Oh Weaver… was I really…?

I stumbled back several paces, determined to get as far away from that tempting drop as possible.

No. Not yet. Death will not have me yet.

Suddenly, I felt my footing slip.

My next step was on thin air.

I barely had time to scream as I plummeted through space, the air whooshing past me.

_Fire… help me… take it, you'll need it…_

The ground was approaching quickly.

_No, weave the vines like this… Achenar, stop harassing your brother… Atrus, where are you?_

Tamra… Oh, Tamra, I'm so sorry…


	11. Remember

_Hey! Whatever happened to all the reviews that I was getting for this story? Doesn't anyone care anymore?_

_You're making me feel sad… -pouts-_

_PLEEEEEEEAAAASSSEEE review this story! You wouldn't make me have to drag Saavedro into this. He doesn't even know I'm writing this. He'd get really mad at both of us if I had to drag him in, all for the simple problem of you not reviewing my story. I might end up saying hello to the business end of his hammer for this as it is...  
_

_Okay, enough randomness - here's the next chapter. Enjoy!_ 8D

* * *

_Where am I?_

_Am I dead?_

_My head is killing me…_

My vision was blurred as I opened my eyes, making everything seem to swim in a mix of meaningless colors, without form or reason, and my head was pounding as if someone were playing a drum inside of it. Wearily, I tried to focus my vision on the endless empty blue expanse above me, and even the clouds, I noticed, were nothing but white smudges on a blue canvas.

I tried to turn onto my side, ignoring my aching head, and felt pain shoot up my arm, and as my vision began to clear, I saw why. My left arm was bent into an awkward position, and a dull, thudding pain echoed through it. I have no recollection of how it could have possibly gotten that way – every time I tried to remember something, it darted away into the haze of pain that surrounded my mind.

Unable to move my body due to pain, I shifted only my head to look at the cliff face and ground, and then followed it upwards to wind up staring at the end of the cliff above.

It was then that I realized that I had fallen a height of no less then ten feet, maybe even fifteen, though it was hard to judge from this angle.

I was lucky that I hadn't broken my neck.

But if I wasn't dead, then why did I feel so detached and weightless? It was as if I were watching my life from afar, but through a haze that dulled everything, everything save for the pain that tethered me to my earthly form.

I heard nothing, as if the entire world had been muted, and everything seemed to take twice as long, as if the Weaver had put it into slow motion in order to play a prank on the mortals below.

Maybe I hadn't survived, after all.

Staring up at the cliff, I noticed some sort of disturbance… It almost looked like the cliff was growing, pushing a spire of rock from the top the way a flower might push through earth.

But it wasn't. It had too defined a shape, too much motion to it. It was, to the best of my fuzzy vision's ability to discern, a person. The air around him shimmered and warped as he appeared from seemingly nothing, and he seemed to be looking around for something.

Is it… could it be…?

_I haven't survived, then. This man is Death, come to claim me for his own…_

He didn't seem to notice me at all, however, so if he truly was Death, he was doing a lousy job. But as my vision began to clear, I saw that he was no phantasm, but a normal human being – perhaps one that could help me. I tried to call out to him, but the words seemed to stick in my throat and gum my mouth, and by the time it had cleared again, the man had already pulled something from his pack and disappeared.

* * *

I can't recall anything, not the days – or was it weeks? Months? – after that brief encounter. It felt like I was wandering without purpose, existing without reason, and these days I couldn't even remember what I did yesterday. 

I don't even know how I found the book in the first place.

I _do_ remember, however, that I had tripped over something (I assumed it was a rock). I _do_ know that I had looked down to see what it was.

Holding that book in my hands at that moment, I felt as if I had woken from a dreamless sleep, for I now remember both the fall and the man.

The man had seemed familiar. Why?

_The journal…_

Quickly, I withdrew my sketchbook from my satchel and flipped it to the first entry I had written.

_Entry one. I do not recall… how long has it been?_

_Fifteen years… alone._

… _I must document as much as I can… I cannot forget again._

But I have. In spite of this attempt, I have forgotten.

I must try to recall everything. How I got here, why I felt so angry… I barely can remember my own name anymore.

_Entry two. I had a dream last night. A terrible nightmare._

_In it, I was standing outside my house. Tamra was with the girls. We were talking, laughing, watching the sun set above the clouds. It was beautiful._

_But as soon as the last few rays of light had peeked over the horizon, two shadows, one red-eyed, the other blue, attacked Tamra. I tried to get them away from her, but it was to no avail. She and the girls fell into the clouds below – I didn't even hear a splash._

_Then my house caught on fire, and I was trapped. The flames came for me, and I swear I heard someone's voice repeating the word "Why?" repeatedly. And then I was falling… I was…_

_I can't remember anything more. Perhaps it has to do with the scars on my arms and back?_

Curious, I pulled up my sleeve and found several long scars along my arm. Vaguely, I wondered how they had gotten there. Maybe I had fallen and cut myself badly? But they were too numerous and too smooth…

_Entry three._ _It is coming back to me. Slowly. The knowledge of who I am. How long I have been trapped here. So much of it is blurry. Whole blocks of time still floating in the fog that eats my mind. But if I concentrate, I get pieces of it back._

_There was a man… I know him… I think –_

_He was in the imager. I remember. He was speaking. His voice was calm and soft, but had a certain warmth to it, almost a fatherly one._

_I've seen him before. I think this man may have come to our village. But he was younger then. Dark haired. Tall. Wearing those same strange flowing brown robes. He carried a book in his hands then too and he's always using it. Always writing down notes. His eyes are covered by thick glasses, but his face is warm and friendly. He tells me his name. He says it's Atrus._

_I remember now. His name is Atrus._

_Atrus says he's come to our village from a faraway place because he wanted to learn about the Tree. He says he'll only stay awhile. Doesn't want to stop our endless labors. He says he wants to help, if we will let him._

_Oh Tamra. Why did we let him?_

_Keep writing, Saavedro. Write everything down._

_This Atrus stayed with us for months. I taught him how to trim the delicate Lattice roots. How to splice old and new growths together so the walls of our houses will grow strong. I tell him the traditions of the Weave. How by using the spores to support the growing branches, we keep the Lattice Tree alive. He wants to learn everything I know. He wants Narayan to survive._

_I take him to the rift, to where the sea flows through gaps in the world. Steam flows up from the waterfall. The puffer spores are ready to take flight. We stand in the shadows of dusk and watch the spores begin to rise. He says they look like pearls against the sky. Then he points to one of the spores. It's smaller than the rest. Small enough to fit the niche we'd woven into the branches that morning. Its skin is milky white. With just the faintest touch of pink._

_That one, Atrus said. That should support your new daughter's room perfectly, I think._

_I remember I nodded. Then I raised my pipe and played. Atrus stood beside me, holding his breath as my song drew the hollow spore in close. As soon as it was near he threw the net and dragged it in._

_This is what I remember._

_This is why I said he could send me his sons._

His sons… Why are they familiar as well? I know they…

No! Not this time. I will not forget. I must _focus_…

They were there. They were in Narayan… weren't they there twice?

They were older the last time… the war had begun, and… No, that was after they had come. It started around the same time.

Were they…?

I flipped the pages and found that part of the journal was missing. Some of the pages must have fallen out; this is a very old sketchbook, and paper does not last as long as people do. Indeed, that must be what has happened, as much of the paper that seems to have come before the first entry has also come loose from the binding.

I skip to the next page.

_Entry four._

_Sirrus. And. Achenar._

_The walls run red with steam and strangling branches. I see their bloated faces laughing at everything. I remember how they lied. I remember what they did._

_They brought me here to die._

_I followed them._

_The Lattice Roots were black from too much overgrowth. Puffer spores floated up in the hot steam and burst. No one was there to guide the spores to the branches. No one was waiting to perform the ritual Weaves. The fighting had torn my people apart._

_They didn't care._

_They didn't care._

_They wanted Narayan to die._

Oh yes. I remember now…

Memories come flooding back, helpful ones, painful ones. I remember that my name is Saavedro and the world that I am in is called J'nanin. I remember seeing the tree burn. I remember Tamra giving me the necklace. I remember trying to ask Sirrus and Achenar for help.

I remember how I got the scars on my arms.

_Dead._

Wait… that word…

_Dead… dead… dead…_

Now I remember, Atrus. It was you all along, wasn't it? You were the mastermind… and the boys were just your pawns.

Is that it, Atrus? Was I just a pawn in your twisted game?

You secretly hated Narayan and all that it stood for, didn't you? It was your plan to kill Narayan and leave me, the last of its people, to die on some forsaken world of yours.

And then?

Did you come to see what had happened? Did you come to see the destruction your boys had wrought?

Of course not.

And then when you finally came back, you ignored me. In misery and pain, you left me stranded – again. Whatever happened to helping a friend in need, Atrus?

But then again, I suppose that friendship doesn't matter to you anymore, since it _was_ your plan all along and you _were_ the mastermind behind it. And so, you discarded me, like the miserable wretch that I am. You got your boys to do the dirty work, because your own cowardice prevented you from facing me and showing me what you truly are.

Oh no, _old friend._ You can't be rid of me that easily. This time, the joke will be on you, and I will be the one laughing as you and your horrid sons plead for mercy.

But, just like you took any hope for escape from me, I will take something from you. A precious something. Something that you have only one of.

And the last thing that you will see is me, and with your last breath, you will beg me for forgiveness.

Oh yes, Atrus. You will pay.


	12. Lost

_Next chapter! Boy, it's been a while…_

_Well, school's started up for me, and I'm busier than ever. Yes, I'm busy with this, but there's also that tiny matter of being so very busy with homework and band, and drama is going to start shortly – and then… then, it'll just be a nightmare. Therefore, I may not have time to get back to this tale until later in the year (Aww… just when it was getting good, too!), so you'll have to wait a bit for the next chapter. I'm astonished that I even finished writing the rough draft of this story early enough to post it during the summer, but hey, life doesn't always go according to plan, right?_

_Well, enough of that, here's the eleventh chapter of Locusani: Saavedro's Tale! As always, enjoy and please leave me a review. I would appreciate it ever so much._

* * *

The link in was painless, but disorienting, and though I was on relatively solid ground, I stumbled several times upon entering the new world. I took a look around, so as to get my bearings, and found that I was standing in what appeared to be a small office space. It was quiet enough to hear a needle hit the carpeted floor, and the desk was cluttered with so many books and papers that one couldn't see the actual desk space. 

_Books and yet more books. That's just like you, though, isn't it, Atrus?_

Out of curiosity, I picked one up.

I never did learn to read Atrus' language fluently, and so I was never very good at it, but I was literate enough to recognize most words - and I usually sound out the ones that I can't, which is what I was doing for title of this book. I managed to come up with the word "Chnlwud", which made absolutely no sense.

Opening the cover, I realized that this was yet another book that transported the owner to another world. Not really wanting to visit the world it showed, which looked quite depressing and swampy, I closed the cover and set it back on the desk.

The oddest thing, I thought, was that it was obviously broad daylight, but the room was devoid of all life except for me.

Suddenly, a strange urge came over me, and without really knowing what I was doing, I began to search through everything. Every book I could find, I opened. Every paper on the desk, I looked over. I opened drawers and looked in bags. I shuffled through papers with mysterious script on them. I found a book back to J'nanin, and this I set in a place that I could easily find and might go unnoticed by someone who was not looking for it.

I was currently looking through unsorted pictures. Most of them were hand drawn, and were very realistic, I might add – some seemed to be portraits of alien landscapes I had never seen before. Others were of people, most of whom I did not recognize. Still others were family pictures, and I stopped here and placed the images back where I had found them, for I had no desire to look at Atrus or any of his kin.

I turned to face the desk once more, and noticed three more pictures, all framed beautifully. I chose the closest one and picked it up to get a good look.

This one seemed to be of his wife, who was holding a baby and looked a bit tired. She was striking, though her beauty was nowhere near that of Tamra's, and never would be. Carefully, I set the picture back in its spot – the last thing I wanted was to disrupt too much and make him suspicious.

The second and third pictures were together in a double frame with a hinge. I picked it up, but the hinge must have been loose, because it closed quickly and pinched my fingers. Ignoring this minor injury, I opened it to see what was inside.

_Sirrus…_

Those eyes…

_Achenar…_

Traitors… _liars!_

I felt a burst of hot anger and flung the frame to the ground, kicked it away from me, and watched it skitter into the wall. The resulting sound was loud and _very_ conspicuous…

_Saavedro, you idiot. Whatever happened to keeping everything in order and putting it back where it belonged?_

Cautiously, I walked over to the frame and once again took it in my hands. The wood was a bit dented, and there was a small divot in the wall where the frame had hit it, but otherwise, there was very little damage.

_Maybe I was lucky. Maybe they didn't hear it…_

I heard something behind me, and I became tense. What if they _had_ heard?

Wait a few seconds…

A few more…

They're gone. Good.

_Saavedro, if you make one more mistake like that, you will most assuredly be caught in the act – and they aren't going to take kindly to you breaking and entering._

I set the double frame back on the desk and continued my search.

After several minutes of this, I finally came across a thin, pale brown book. Curious, I opened it and found that it was Atrus' journal. Excited that I finally had come across something useful, I began to read it as best as I could.

_It has taken much work to get to this point, but now I feel that this Age is ready for population and cultivation. The terrain is mountainous and rocky, but with the proper tools, one might be able to –_

Footsteps sounded from outside, and I turned suddenly towards the door, fearing the worst.

_What if he attacks me? I have no weapon… What if it's… them… again?_

I hear laughter.

I hear a woman's voice.

And for a moment, I am home, standing in the main room as Tamra runs towards me and embraces me, asking where I have been all these years and begging me to tell her…

_Dead… dead… dead…_

_No!_

No. No, Saavedro. Get yourself out of here, now! If his wife catches you…

_His wife? Or mine?_

_She is dead. You know this…_

It seemed like I was going to faint. I felt ice beginning to creep through my body, felt the world begin to fade into the Fog, but somehow, I found the J'nanin linking book.

I don't remember putting it there, but I must have.

I heard the steps coming closer, heard the doorknob begin to rattle, and I opened the book.

The last thing I saw was her expression of shock, and the last thing I heard was her frightened shrieking for Atrus.

* * *

My heart was pounding, beating faster than I ever knew was possible by the time I had arrived in J'nanin, and as soon as I was solid again, I collapsed onto my knees, shaking. 

_Oh, Weaver…_

_She saw me…_

_They almost caught me…_

I knelt on the sandy banks of the small lagoon, probably looking for all the world like some pathetic little animal too scared to do anything save for shiver.

I don't care.

_If that book hadn't have been where it was… If it hasn't fallen in a spot that might remain hidden…_

Weaver, have mercy. Did they _know?_

Had they actually followed me here, to J'nanin, to this world best left forgotten?

I felt a cold prickle on the back of my neck, felt another icy wave of fear come over me then, and I turned anxiously, only to find…

Nothing.

_Of course. There is nobody here. There will never be anyone here, no one but you…_

I don't know why, but something about that made me laugh, though what I feel is nowhere near mirth.

I am vaguely aware of something hot and wet on my face, tracing tracks down my cheeks and falling as droplets to the sandy ground.

I crawl closer to the lagoon, intending to splash water on my face.

Instead I stare into its murky depths, not at the fish, not at the various plants, but at the reflection of a man that I do not recognize.

He is wild looking; his face is marked by age and worry. He is crying. His eyes hold something less than human. They are almost hungry. Pleading. As if there have been too many nightmares made real in his life to count.

For a moment, I think I am not alone, I think that there must be someone behind me, but if so, where is my own reflection, my own shadow at the water's edge.

_You fool. You know that nobody in their right mind would of their own free will set foot on this isle of despair._

Weaver have mercy, is this really me? Is this what I've become, this depraved, hopeless animal, this lost soul?

_Locusani…_

I dip my hands in the water, disrupting the image, and splash water onto my face. I am shivering so much that anyone watching might swear that I was having a fit, but the relentless sun was doing a good job of reminding me that it is never cold enough for that sort of action to be a weather indicator here.

I laugh again, that joyless, cold wheeze that I am beginning to hate. I hate everything here… I hate myself…

"Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."

I start at the harsh, accusing words that I barely register as coming from my own mouth.

"And now I'm afraid of myself too, apparently. How nice."

You see, Atrus?

You see what you've done?

You see what happens when you don't remember to take care of your things, don't remember your friends, don't remember the past?

The thing is, sometimes when you don't remember your history, the past returns to haunt you.

People aren't playthings, Atrus. You can't toss them aside and forget about them like an old doll. You can't expect them not to come back, for better or worse. You can't pretend they don't have feelings and make up lives for them, however terrible.

And, also unlike toys, you can't fix them when they've been broken.


	13. Found

_The next chapter of Locusani is here! I've been taking some time off from it to get my homework done – school is now in full-swing for me, and Drama will soon eat up much of my time…_

_For now, enjoy chapter twelve._

* * *

It was midday when I awoke from my usual uneasy sleep to find that I had spent the night by the edge of the pond. I noticed that my left hand was halfway submerged in the water – probably an effect of my tossing and turning.

I had gotten used to forgetting my dreams, for most of the time they were ambiguous, dark things that came and went. For a brief moment, I thought that yesterday's events had been just that - a vividly-remembered part of my nightmares, a rare spark of hope that had been drowned by darker dreams. But then I remembered the book, still lying on my desk, the feeling of falling through the swirling panel and the narrow escape…

… And I remembered.

I knew that I needed to go back there. I vaguely recall that I was looking for something… reading it in a book…

_She almost caught you last time._

I realize that. But I must know more. I must find a weak spot in his defenses that I can exploit, a chink in his armor.

But I cannot do it without some protection of my own.

I looked into the water, past my disheveled reflection, and noticed a rock that was a little larger than my fist and almost rectangular, though irregularly so.

It is perfect.

* * *

The tiny, thin vines that bind the head of the hammer to its base didn't look like they'd hold – but I was wrong. They are much stronger than I had thought. Likewise, the strips of hide that I had cut made for a sturdy, slip-proof surface when wrapped about the bundle of wood that served for the handle.

That was just like Edanna, though, always surprising and helpful. And it did make me feel a little better knowing that this age, with its myriad creatures and lush foliage, was basically a giant tree, and about as close as I was ever going to get to Narayan now.

But unlike Narayan, there were no other people here, and there never would be, save for me.

And, also unlike my home, Edanna would never die.

_Why did you leave it, Saavedro? Tell me again what possessed you to leave it all behind._

I was trying to help.

_A hero that sacrifices his life for a doomed world is not a hero._

I wanted justice.

_How just is it for you? How fair is it to be stuck here for all eternity?_

Leave me alone. I don't want to talk with you anymore.

_You're going to die here, do you know that?_

Shut up!

_Your plan will fail, and then what will be left to do? Nothing. You will still be trapped here, and you will have exhausted yourself for nothing._

No! No… It _will_ work, I swear to the Weaver Himself, _it will work!_

_And if your plan backfires?_

I…

I just have to find a way. I know I can. I've survived here for years, and I will find a way eventually.

_What if you can't?_

If I can't…

I don't know.

* * *

I'm ready for you this time. Don't even try to sneak up on me, Atrus. I have a weapon this time, and I _will_ use it.

I shifted the hammer around in my hand, feeling its dull weight, and cautiously walk over to the desk. I sneak a quick glance at the double doors, to make sure that nobody will barge in on me. As before, all is silent, and I begin my search.

This time, I knew where to look and what to look for. I read every journal I found, first scanning, then looking deeper if anything jumped out at me. There was a massive array of them, and in their pages I read about Atrus' struggles with his own father, his plans for the future that he had already made happen, his past, his present… everything. Currently, I was poring through one journal's detailed description about an abandoned world named Myst that Atrus once called his home.

_What was wrong with it, Atrus?_ I wondered as I slowly leafed through the pages. _Did you tire of it the same way that you tired of Narayan? Or did your sons destroy this Myst Island as well? When will you learn that it is only a matter of time before your own boys are the death of you?_

I closed the journal and turned away. I am not getting any closer to what I need, and it is beginning to get late. Perhaps I should come back later and -

I heard a rather loud noise that sounded suspiciously like footsteps to my left, and stared at the double doors. There, I could see the blurred silhouette of a person, heading straight for the door.

_Don't come closer. Please, don't come any closer than that. Go on your way…_

The footsteps had slowed, and the shadow came closer.

I reach for my hammer, hoping that if this person opened the door, they got the idea that I shouldn't be messed with. They _would_ be sorry…

_Stay quiet. If you are quiet, they will go away…_

A voice, deep and fatherly, called to the person, but I couldn't quite catch the name. Another person's voice, that of a young female, responded.

There was laughter, and the footsteps faded as the shadow walked away from the door.

When I was sure they had gone, I slowly crept towards the door and locked it.

There. That at least would buy me a little time while I looked. This way, the person would have to stop to get a key or ask someone with a key to open the door, and that would give me plenty of time to escape if the need arose.

I must stay one step ahead… doing so could save my life.

I turned back to the desk and noticed a journal that I had missed, half-hidden by papers and a dark green in color. Carefully, I brushed the papers aside, picked up the journal, and began to read.

_The Age, which I have named Releeshahn, is far more stable than I could have hoped, and the D'ni are readily adapting to it…_

Wait.

They've returned?

How? How can this be possible? How can one man recreate that which has been dead for so long…?

_Dead…_

_Dead…_

But if he can do this…

… can he restore Narayan as well?

It could be fixed.

_You could go back. It would be all over._

… _Finally_ over.

I…

I think I need a better plan.

* * *

It makes no sense!

There has to be a way to lure him here. There _must_ be. Something that is priceless, that cannot be replaced, that is everything to him.

His wife?

No, that is too easy. She wouldn't go willingly, and if she's even half the woman that Tamra was, she would put up too much of a fight to be worthwhile.

Oh, Tamra…

This must work. I have to get her back.

But I need something of Atrus' first…

* * *

_Here I am again, in his house, in his office. At least it's night this time – he won't enter his office to work late at night._

Yet again, I begin to search, this time for something that was important. What that item would be, I knew not – but it had to be something that he would miss, or else he would never come for it.

Halfway through my search, I noticed a book, sealed under glass. The book itself was equipped with a sturdy padlock to ward off intruders. The glass case was also padlocked, and would not open unless it were smashed or someone used a key. Curious now, I read the title.

_Releeshahn._

Wait a moment…

I know that name. I've heard it somewhere…

No. Not heard – _read._

It was the name of the book that lead to the new D'ni's home world. It was the way that he had revived his brethren.

It's perfect.


	14. Portraits

_Well, here's the next chapter, hope that you enjoy it! I love writing this story…_

* * *

I think I have an idea.

Atrus is always coming up with arcane riddles, puzzles that only someone with far too little to do and far too much time on their hands could solve.

_Someone like you, you mean?_

Exactly. I think that, with a little tweaking, even Atrus himself would have a trying time with them. He would wander aimlessly through these ages, trying desperately to recall the solutions to his mind-benders, vying with his own painful memories and the elements. He would finally… _finally_… see what I have been through for so very, very long…

The thought of it is delicious, so delicious, and so real that I can see it in front of me.

Maybe I can make him see it, too. See the reality of what happened…

_Show him. Show him what happened._

Yes, that's it… I'll find some way to tell him myself, to show my anguish to him in its purest form.

I've been trying to beat him at his own game for years now. It's only fair that I use my artistic talents as well…

* * *

I found the perfect spot for the first story mural – a nearly flat surface on the inside of a small cavity – on a quick trip to Edanna. My purpose for this trip was originally to gather paints and other supplies, but the spot was so beautifully blank…

It begged me to paint on it, wanted to share my story, to shoulder some of my burden…

So, I stopped. I fished in my pack, looking for some black paint, just enough to sketch out the linework. I found it in a small bottle at the bottom of the pack, and it was enough – but I would eventually need to get some more… all the more reason for my trip to Edanna.

Carefully, I took up my paintbrush and dipped it into the paint. I sketched the basics of the drawing. The people. The books. The horizon. The trees. Slowly, a world formed on the wall, flowing from my brush the way ink flowed from a pen.

Soon, higher spots on the wall became quite difficult to reach, and I was forced to improvise by making scaffolding out of thick, strong vines. It worked wonderfully, and by the time noon rolled around, I had already finished the sketching.

As I was putting the final touches on the outlines that I would later color, my paintbrush suddenly snapped in two.

And I have no extra ones. Great.

Very well, then, I'll just have to improvise…

A Squee hopped along far below, and I watch it go on its way for a moment. My thoughts turned to my makeshift trap, hidden far in the upper levels of Edanna somewhere, and I focus on the Squee's tail.

Yes… it might work…

It _is_ nearly lunch…

* * *

I wait.

The Squee comes closer… ever closer…

It has its heart set on obtaining the little pink berry I've proffered for it.

The trap swings above them both.

And I wait.

It stops. Does it sense me?

_Come on, little one. Go after the berry. I know that you are hungry, I know that you want it…_

It appears to think all is safe.

My hand is on the lever.

It goes for the berry.

My grip on the handle tightens…

It is eating the berry…

I pull the lever…

_Snap!_

The Squee panics, scrambling around the trap and squeaking frantically, looking in vain for an escape.

I grab the swing vine and glide effortlessly over to the trap.

I stand above the trap, readying my hammer.

This hammer is not my protective one. No, this one is thinner, finer, more precise. Sharpened a bit on both ends. All the better for the task I must use it for…

The Squee has tired itself out, or perhaps it has given up. It has seen enough of its brethren die at my hands to know that it is doomed.

I open the trap, and immediately, the Squee shoots out, streaking like lightning.

Just as quickly, I snatch it, claw-like, with my other hand.

Its tiny heart beats so hard… its breathing is so rushed, so fast… its large, soulful eyes look at me with nothing but fear.

Do not worry, my little friend, this will be all over quickly. I do not let my victims suffer long…

It looks up at me with an odd calmness in its eyes as I poise the hammer above its head, getting ready for the final blow… Perhaps it finally realizes that its time has come…

The hammer falls in slow motion…

There is _blood…_ So much blood…

It covers the hammer, it drips on the ground, and it's splashed on my robe.

I withdraw a small knife from my satchel and begin to skin the Squee, careful to preserve as much of the hide as I can. I'm going to have to reconstruct the head, but otherwise, it should make a perfect armguard – all the better to keep paint from dripping all over my arms.

I examine the tail. It is slightly fluffier on the end – a perfect substitute for my paintbrush. I place the hide in my satchel for later.

The tiny carcass is not enough on its own, but several of them, cut into strips, smoked, and dried made a decent enough meal and kept for a long time. I already have seven of them from today's hunt in my satchel. Tonight, I will cure the meat and decide how I should mix the paints from the various berries and flowers that I had picked.

Tomorrow, I will start on Amateria's mural.

* * *

The Amateria and Voltaic murals were both finished within a few months. The Amateria one was finished with the aid of a ladder I had built with scrap metal from several of the ages. The Voltaic one was trickier, however, and I wound up having to build a rope-and-pulley system of sorts to paint the picture – which was very unnerving to do while suspended ten to twenty feet above boiling lava. About the only good thing about the heat in this area was that the hot, dry air made the paints dry much quicker.

I had also managed to finish my armguard. The reconstruction of the skull would have been impossible, so I wound up breaking the neck of my last kill and gently removing the brain from its skull. That way, I figured, I could remove the other Squee's broken skull and replace it with this one. It worked beautifully, and I had the armguard within a few days.

It was after I had decided to pay a little trip to Edanna that I noticed that the mural there was little more than halfway done. I resolved to finish it – as soon as I had finished my other errands.

* * *

There. It is finished. Now, when I launch my plan, he will see all of the misery he wrought.

But first, I must launch my plan.

The Squee on my arm stares at me with unseeing eyes, speaking to me through that unbreakable gaze.

_And that, of course,_ it reminds me,_ Requires the re-tooling of a few things…_

You are remarkably observant, my furry little friend. Tell me more.

_The symbols, Saavedro, the symbols. The scanner. Reprogram it… change the symbols. Make him search for them – make it so that he must hunt for the tiniest clue, a single sign, anything to save his people. Show him how it feels to be a prisoner at another's mercy – at _your_ mercy. Leave him to work through his own puzzles alone. Go to Narayan and wait for him there. And when he finally comes crawling back to you, begging for mercy and pleading for forgiveness… give him none._

You are a brilliant little Squee. Why aren't more of your species this intelligent? Perhaps if they were, they'd know enough to escape my obvious traps before they went the same way as you…

You know what? I like the way you think – But I think I'll reprogram the scanner later, as I still need to figure out how to change the messages, and later, the symbols.

Besides, it is getting late. We don't want our thinking to be compromised by lost sleep, do we?

* * *

I lie in my hammock, staring at the wall across from me. It's blank - foreboding, like a pale shadow hanging over me…

I'm so _sick_ of it. I'm sick of _all _of them, staring at me as if I am some caged animal put here for their own amusement.

I swear I hear them _mocking_ me…

_There is no escaping us,_ they jeer, _and even if you could escape this place, where would you go?_

Spirits, Tamra, I can't _live_ like this anymore!

_Calm yourself, Saavedro. You are overreacting. You have nothing here left to fear, nothing to question…_

What about myself?

What about my own sanity?

_NO!_ No! I'm not insane, I'm _not!_ Angry, yes. In pain, yes. But not crazy… no, never. I could never… _actually_ go mad…

Could I?

The wall continues to stare at me with unseeing eyes. And… Weaver forbid, I'm beginning to feel _watched…_

I stare back at the wall, and for a moment, I… I could have sworn I'd seen…

I know what I must do now. I must bring Tamra back to me the only way that I can.

* * *

It is coming back to me. _Slowly._ So painfully slowly, I try to remember every detail, everything that she was, one thing at a time, one piece at a time, and paint her that way. I try to remember her, piece by piece, but, piece by piece, she is fading…

Her eyes are the hardest part of her to remember… How can I possibly capture that sparkle, the eternal twinkle, the laughter in them?

Every day seems longer, and the hours are creeping by like so many snails. Some days, I see her there, right next to me, and she is encouraging me to continue, and she is laughing and posing for her portrait.

_Don't give up, my love,_ she tells me. _I know you can do this. Be strong…_

And I beg her not to leave, to please stay with me, to be real…

But the next day, she is gone, and I cannot see her. I am alone, and I struggle, and I nearly give up in my frustration… She is not there – she is merely a ghost, a breath, a whisper in my ear.

But, slowly, gradually, she was painted. And as I put the final touches on her face, I saw her standing there, and she nodded her approval…

And then she was gone again, but her face was there on my wall.

And as I stepped back, the wall began to blur and warp, as if I were seeing it through a scratched lens.

How was that for irony? I paint my heart's beloved on the wall of my makeshift home, and not five seconds later, I lose the ability to see her?

A single tear rolls down my face. Then another. And another.

I do nothing to stop them.

Instead, I sit on the on the edge of my hammock, face buried in my hands, crying quietly to myself.


	15. Vengeance

_Sorry it's been so long, but my internet connection wouldn't work for something like a week, and drama has started up again for me, and I'm not going to have as much time to write Locusani anymore._

_Therefore, I'm going to console your souls and ease your worries by posting this chapter in conjunction with the last one. I hope that you enjoy this chapter – I had fun writing it._

* * *

Day breaks. The sun creeps into my room in tiny rays of light, chasing away a few of the shadows that have collected overnight in the corners. I can almost hear their skittering as they try in vain to escape…

_Yet there are some shadows,_ I think as I open my eyes, _That cannot be chased away. What about the constant shadow of doubt that hangs over me and this place? What of the shadows of the past, those haunting, darting specters that I struggle to see?_

I shift positions in the hammock, now staring at the opposite wall.

_It's never easy, is it?_

Shut up, it's far too early for this.

_Survival isn't easy. I would know. It was all I ever knew, until you skinned and mounted me on your arm. And if it wasn't easy for me, and if it isn't easy for you, how can you have a successful plan if it is easy for your victim as well?_

It's called _sabotage._ It's called _changing the imager messages._

I could almost hear him laugh, a striking sound that was nothing like the one I would have imagined a Squee to make.

_How?_ it asked, its voice almost mocking in tone. _If you're as smart as you believe yourself to be, you'll tell me what your brilliant plan is._

I admit, I was at a loss. But I couldn't let my companion know that, cocky as he was.

_Well? Answer me, Saavedro._

I thought for a moment, trying to recall all that I knew about the imager upstairs.

The mechanism… There must be some sort of switch if Atrus could record his messages easily enough… But where?

Think, Saavedro… _Remember…_

_Walking… side… left. Little golden button… Pressed it… did nothing. Pressed it twice… sconces closed… blinking?_

Yes, I remember now… The memory is fuzzy and vague… but it is there.

I have a plan, little Squee. So there.

And just to spite you even more, I'm not going to tell it to you.

It says nothing, not even a grumble of annoyance. Either it's stewing in its own anger at being outwitted, or it knows that it can't beat me at my own game.

A plan… yes… the imager…

Good morning, Saavedro. Wake up…

* * *

I hastily scribble half-written poems on scrap paper, torn from my sketchbook turned journal. Several pages now seem to be loose, but that is to be expected for the years it has weathered with me. The binding is tough, and should hold for many more a year before I would have to obtain a new one. The large symbols in the other three ages, I decided, would be dealt with later.

I located the golden button, but then realized that I had no idea of how to reprogram the scanner. I mentally slapped myself and slumped on the floor to think, feeling rather stupid.

_So I know how to record the messages… but that is no good unless I know how to reprogram the scanner! But maybe… maybe I can cheat…_

* * *

_Bam._

_Bam._

_Bam._

_CRASH._

With a final blow, the wall broke, sending splinters of the fragile panel flying towards me. I quickly shielded my face from their onslaught, staggering back a few feet to avoid injury.

I surveyed the four broken panels, admiring the gearwork inside of them, as if they were four fine works of art. The elevator would probably work if I only removed a few of them…

Yes… That gear… this piston… those screws…

Perfect.

* * *

There. It is all assembled and ready.

It's a bizarre-looking contraption, not much more than a few gears meant to help transfer the image and a tiny lever to make the machine switch on the recording mechanism inside of it. But the important thing is that it works.

Again, I am about to press the golden record button, but just then, the Squee interrupts me.

_The symbols first..._

How rude of you to disturb my work! But you are right… the symbols should come first.

_And the puzzles?_

What about them?

_It shouldn't be too easy for him… surely you can rig those as well?_

Ah… I see what you mean. The puzzles. Those key components that are as much a part of his Ages as I now am. The maddening tests that all of us - I, both of his traitorous sons, and he – have or still need to endure in order to survive the Ages' sanity-robbing labyrinths.

I can easily scramble most of them, but what of Edanna? It is far too natural and Age to scramble in a logical way _and_ make look inconspicuous.

But maybe… just maybe…

Maybe I can use the plants to my advantage.

_The question is, Saavedro, do you still remember how?_

* * *

It is a beautiful monstrosity, this thing that I have created, these hybrids. They are nearly fully grown now, almost ready to live without my constant tending. I had planted some of them in the small pond between the two front doors of my house – now blocked off by the metal grating, so as to provide a sort of trellis. Once I am finished, I can fully block off the walkway and let it grow on its own.

Still, I am more than a little bit disappointed in it. I've tried almost everything to make the plant grow quicker or become more carnivorous, but nothing is working.

No… there was only one plant that grew that quickly within the hour, but it sadly is now dead…

_Wait… no._

_Not completely…_

I reach into my satchel, feel my hand close around something cold and smooth. I pull it out and look at it, glinting and scattering the light that hits it; I look from it to my beloved Tamra, over there on the wall.

_I am sorry, my love, but it really is for the best…_

* * *

The new hybrid is growing strong – and, as I expected, it has not taken long - only about three and a half hours. Its leaf snaps closed on my fingers as soon as I touch its spike-rimmed lip, and dripping blood from my last kill into its yawning pitcher-like stomach causes it to excrete an extremely strong acid that makes the blood fizz (and eats through flesh, as I painfully learned later). If an animal didn't drown in its sickly-sweet concoction of watery sap, the creature would struggle and cut itself on the spikes, causing the plant to devour the doomed being alive. That bird would have quite a time with it, and it certainly would delay Atrus even more.

I had visited Amateria and Voltaic in that time, tweaking this machine or making the slightest change to certain puzzles in order to provide more sticky traps that the unassuming Atrus could – and probably would – fall into. It was nothing that the determined person couldn't solve, but it did take a great deal of mental fortitude to do so – a _very_ great deal.

Don't look at me like that, Tamra. You and I both know that this is something I must do. Then and only then will we be together again…

The large poems had been worked at as well. Edanna's had been easy enough to ruin by covering them with thick, opaque sap, and I was still working at Amateria's, slowly chipping away at the soft rock and watching as the pillars had fallen into the ocean… I would finish it later, after I had introduced Edanna's wildlife to my new creation.

_Hello. Meet your new playmate. He's very interested in your unique… flavors, as it were…_

The interesting thing was that Atrus had installed three smaller imagers, one in each age. For what purpose they were meant, I am not sure, but they were blank when I found them, which leads me to believe that they were an abandoned project of Atrus'. No matter – if he has built it, then I can most certainly use it against him.

But one problem still eluded me, I thought as I prepared my carefully created monster for transport. The issue was that of Voltaic's symbol – how did one desecrate a hovering poem?

The Squee chuckled coldly, as if it were hiding a terrible secret from me.

_You are forgetting something, Saavedro…_

What? You think that you can find a solution to this problem? You cannot begin to wrap your tiny mind around this problem.

_There is a type of rock, remember? It is native to Amateria… It causes the cupola to float in the air…_

Oh… _That_ rock…

_Yes, Saavedro,_ that_ rock. The glowing blue rock… Do you remember how strongly is repels other rock?_

I see. Use it, and repel the rocks in Voltaic's poem…

I will have to experiment more.

* * *

There. I have finally done it. I've finally destroyed the final symbol. The idea of using the Amaterian rock was genius, and as an added bonus, it seems to have only ruined the parts of the poem that I have buried the fragments under.

Now all that I have left to do in order to finish my preparations is reprogram the scanner and record new messages for it, and then I'm ready to enact my plan.

_My plan._

Weaver, how long has this taken, now? It has to have taken at least close on several months. Well, I suppose that, at the very least, it's a good way to kill time – time that I've always had far too much of.

Even when I sit in my room and look to Tamra's portrait, I cannot help but feel mocked, if only slightly. Even those eyes, which I struggled the most to recall, seem mocking, empty, and meaningless now.

I carefully shift on the ladder, open the linking book's compartment, give one last look at my work far below, and link.

* * *

The scanner has been reprogrammed. The new messages are there, all of them.

I sat on my hammock now, reflecting on the new messages I had entered in replacement.

First, I had looked through his messages. All of them.

Oh Atrus. Dear friend, noble and valiant companion, deeply caring and incredibly kind-hearted Atrus, I applaud you – for there truly is no man better at vapid, long-winded speeches and infuriating mind-traps than you!

Even I, in my first vengeance-fueled rant, cannot parallel _your_ far superior skill.

And in the second, dear Atrus, I barely came close to the torturously heavy weight and astonishing power of your words.

But, of course, your last is your finest work – and that is precisely why I chose to keep it. What greater irony could there possibly be than to show the artist his own handiwork?

Tamra, don't give me that look. You know that I must do this – there is no turning back now.

She stares at me unblinkingly from across the room. Maybe she, like I, has stopped caring. Maybe there's something that she doesn't want to look at anymore… something that she doesn't want to see…

But what is it, my love? What is it that you no longer wish to look at?

She stares blankly, offering no help.

Is it _me_ that you want to rid your sights of? Are you sickened at the sight of _me?_

She continues to stare at me, eyes locked in an intense gaze with mine.

But perhaps you can barely even do that. Perhaps you really do no longer wish to set your eyes upon this broken being, this shell of a man that you once loved…

I pick up a tattered rag and a bottle of paint thinner from the desk.

Fine. You no longer wish to see… and I will gladly comply, my love.

Five minutes, and the deed is done. She now has no eyes, only reddish smears about her face. Now she cannot say anything to me or look at me with revulsion and loathing.

Now I stare, horrified at my handiwork, feeling my breathing slow. I drop the rag on the floor, and set the bottle back on the desk, my hand shaking.

I have to get out of here.

Everything is set up. I can go right to Narayan from here; there's a J'nanin linking book there within easy reach. I can take the Tomahna book with me when I leave, and from Narayan, I can easily reach Atrus' house and use the J'nanin book to get back – and when I _do_ link out of his study, Releeshahn will be with me.

I will sleep in Narayan tonight, among the spirits of my people. I will ask them for guidance. I will ask them to help me in my task.

And finally, after all these years, Atrus will pay.


	16. So It Begins

_Here's chapter fifteen, even though the menu thingie at the top says it's chapter sixteen. FFN seriously needs to add a prologue and epilogue option to their chaptering system – that would seriously help._

_I'm so close to finishing this fic that it's making me sad. I really loved writing for Saavedro and placing myself in his shoes – it gave me something to do during the summer when there was no drama, no band, and no school to eat up all of my time. Now that the story is nearly finished, I don't know what I'll do…_

_Enjoy as always – if you don't, I'll just have to send Saavedro to hammer some sense into you... – insert evil smirk here –_

* * *

They are _everywhere._

They watch me as I huddle, shaking, by the tapestries. They gather around me and whisper into my ears in cold, hollow voices.

They tell me things – lost hopes, shattered dreams, broken trust. Plans. Things that they urge me to do.

It chills me.

_Bring us with you, Saavedro. Take us with you when you go. Do not leave us here, alone and miserable. Let us seek justice with you – we have waited countless years to speak with those who killed us…_

I… I cannot possibly bring all of you. I don't know how…

_Bring them to us, then._

I will. I must. It is only a matter of time…

_Time. It will be a matter of time that decides when you will join us, be it sooner or later._

What do you mean by sooner?

_If your plan fails… if he doesn't return to us… then what?_

I began to feel cold then, almost numb. But this time, it did not consume me. This time, it just… _was._

Oh, Weaver have mercy… what if he says _no?_

He… can't. He won't. If he dares to say it, I'll kill him.

The voices around me are silent, but the Squee's sneering voice immediately fills the void.

_And then what? Will you do the valiant thing and die with him? Will you smash your own head in with the same hammer that you killed me with?_

STOP IT!He _will_ do this. He must. I will be home soon…

The first glimmer of sunlight steadily begins to fill the ice-encased tree, making my surroundings glow with an otherworldly blue light. The Tomahna book lies at my feet, and I clutch the J'nanin book close to me tightly, as if I could lose it forever by merely letting go of it.

_You can do this, Saavedro. You have planned and worked too long and too hard to go back now._

Yes… yes.

Yes. I am ready, Atrus. I am ready to go through with this.

But are you?

* * *

It all happened so quickly, quicker than I would have hoped for.

The first thing I saw after linking was the girl. She couldn't have been any older than fifteen or sixteen at the most, and she had rather dark brown hair. Said hair was neatly tied back, and her clothing was some of the strangest that I had ever seen. She looked upset and scared, and her eyes kept darting in terror from me to the book and back to me again.

_My little girls may have looked something like you had they survived…_

A few feet from her stood a very shocked Atrus. He seemed unsure of what to do, as he did nothing but stare at me.

I stared back, locking eyes with him. I barely manage to conceal a smirk.

_Surprise, Atrus. It's me again. Don't you remember your old friend? No? Pity – I remember you all too well…_

I looked next to me, and there, under a dome of glass, lay Releeshahn. Next to it was a large firemarble, radiating heat.

I grab it, ignoring the searing pain in my hand.

This time, I do not bother to hide my feverish joy.

_Catch…_

I threw it. It collides with an emerald green curtain, ripping it from its rings and setting it ablaze.

Atrus yelled something, and the girl looked confused and even more frightened. I quickly smashed the dome with the J'nanin linking book and grab Releeshahn with my free hand, all the while never taking my eyes off of Atrus and the strange girl.

I hastily open the linking book as I watch Atrus pull the girl out of the way of the blaze. I give him one last look as I prepare to leave.

_Catch me if you can, Atrus…_

As I felt the link pull me back, I could have sworn that I saw someone rushing towards me…

* * *

I appeared on J'nanin in a curious state of giddy half-awareness – somewhat like the mind-numbing fog that I had become so accustomed to, but warmer… stronger. Less willing to take my memories from me.

My pulse raced madly as I realized that I had actually succeeded in phase one of my plan.

It was_ working._

"_Yes!_ Yes…!"

I couldn't help but shout in glee at that, but just as quickly as it had come, it faded, and realization set in.

He would be coming soon, and I couldn't afford to stay here and let him capture me. Besides having obvious bad repercussions for me, it would also be far too easy – the game would be over before it had even started.

I turned and ran, and not a moment too soon, for shortly thereafter I heard him link in. I did not stop to look back – that would only slow me down.

Instead, I scrambled up the footholds that lead to the observatory's main entrance. I could lock the door from there, I knew, and safely link to Narayan before he could try to cheat his way out of the lesson.

_Not in my classroom, Atrus. Cheaters aren't allowed to live, not so long as I am the teacher…_

I heard his frantic scrambling as he climbed up the footholds, but I had already made it halfway to the door. I locked the main door and opened the second one, entering the room just as he made it to the top of the cliff.

I listened to the door rattle as he tried in vain to open it, and I allowed myself a small smirk at this. Now I have nothing to do but wait for him to find the back entrance – to enter my impromptu shelter and see for himself all that I have had to do in order to survive and get a first glimpse of what the time spent here has done to me.

What _he_ has done to me.

I wait eagerly for his face to appear in the elevator shaft's window. I must make sure that he knows I am leaving. After all, it wouldn't be very nice to leave him so unexpectedly, would it?

* * *

The hours tick by slowly.

I pace the room.

I wait.

He still hasn't shown up.

_And perhaps he never will…_

I glare at the Squee on my arm. I'm beginning to get incredibly sick of its sneering, whining voice, but I cannot abandon him: He is the only friend I have ever had on this island of despair, and _I_ am not so quick to abandon my friends.

I resume pacing.

And fidgeting.

And waiting.

Maybe he somehow knows of the clever traps I have set for him. Maybe he already knows what I want, and he is trying to…

No, now that's just absurd. Atrus is smart, yes, but he is no mind-reader.

_Perhaps it is a good thing that he cannot see your mind… Weaver only knows what thoughts you've had over those past several years…_

Shut up, you stupid animal! I need to think!

The Squee is silent for the moment, completely silent for once in its miserable existence.

He stays that way as I steal a glance outside. I see the shadow of a person that appears to be kneeling at the door, though I'm not sure what the reason for doing this is.

The Squee chuckles slightly, as if it is amused at the person's actions.

What's so funny, little one?

_He seriously thinks that will open the door?_

Come again?

_He believes that he can open this door by picking the lock._

I laugh at that, loudly and roughly, and the Squee laughs with me. Atrus doesn't seriously believe that he can pick a _deadbolt_ lock, does he?

So much for intellect.

Oh, Atrus. Don't you recall anything about these worlds? Or did you perhaps abandon that knowledge when you forsook them?

All the better for me, then.

I resume pacing.

* * *

I hear the elevator approaching.

Time to begin.

It stops, and I turn to look at it. The window shows a somewhat blurry figure of the person inside of it. From this angle, the face is obscured in shadow, but I can just make out that the person is wearing short sleeves and has brown hair. I can't even tell if the person's hair has been swept back or if it's just short.

I try to get a closer look, but I still can't ascertain the figure's features. Nevertheless, this must be Atrus – who else could it possibly be?

Half out of amusement and half out of suspicion, I yell out to him.

"Atrus? Is that you?"

The figure flinches as if surprised. Does he finally recognize who I am, or did my tone of voice shock him?

Indeed, it shocks me a bit, too. It has been so long since I have heard my own voice…

"Come to rescue your book _so soon?_ Not yet, _old friend._ Not yet."

I take the first half-poem from my satchel and walk over to the scanner, my gaze never wavering from Atrus' half-shaded form.

As I scan it in, the Squee pipes up again.

_That is not Atrus. It's not. Your plan is going to fail._

SHUT… UP... _NOW!!!_

I hit myself with Releeshahn, somehow thinking that this will shut him up. Though the Squee has often tried to bring me down, it does understand me and hates to see me get hurt. I was hoping that this would entice him into silence.

It doesn't.

_It's not him, Saavedro._

Yes… it… _is._ Who else could it be?

The Squee is silent.

Finally.

The second half-poem is in, and it follows the first into the gaping pit that holds the golden cage. I hear the gears of the elevator shift.

He is coming.

_Quickly, Saavedro. Third poem, now!_

I scan in the last half-poem, tossing it into the pit below as soon as the scanner accepted it.

The elevator arrives, but I have already linked.


	17. And It Ends

_Well, this is it: chapter sixteen of Locusani. It's been a great journey, and I'm glad to have taken it with you. I hope that my faithful readers have enjoyed this wild ride as much as I have – and to those who have been with Saavedro and me from the very beginning, we extend our deepest thanks. This is a story I can be proud of – a story worthy of ranking with professional authors. Thanks for all the comments._

_And I neglected to mention this in the prologue, but I'd like to extend my gratitude to the Narayani Collective – thanks so much for the support and help with the story. My deepest thanks goes out to one specific member there – Aurélie. Thank you SO MUCH for proofreading this thing. You have been of great help to me, and if there's anything at all I can do for you, please tell me. I'd also like to send a little message to another Collective member, Mystie. Your stalking worked, as you can see. I hope that you enjoyed reading this story as much as I did writing it._

_Thanks again to everyone. Enjoy the final full chapter of Locusani: Saavedro's Tale, and remember…_

"_The doors that you open don't close behind you." – Saavedro, Myst III: Exile_

* * *

Again, I am alone. It is a strange feeling to have after seeing another person, having to wait up for them like this. Empty, generic blue light surrounds me, a halo of misery.

It is almost silent here – _deathly so_ – save for the crackling of the icy shields and the steady creaking of the lattice vines. But even the latter sound does not soothe me – and somehow, I now wish I were back in J'nanin with Atrus, if only to hear the sound of another person's voice or to feel his presence. Something, anything to let me know that I'm not _alone…_

I approach the metal bunker and open the door. Inside, I have set up a temporary shelter. I have stocked up on several supplies for weeks prior, and the fruits of my labor would probably last about three weeks, four if I ate the minimum I would need.

But I know Atrus, and I know that he is not a stupid man. It will surely not take him that long.

And so I wait.

I feel a sudden pang of hunger and realize that I hadn't eaten before setting my plan into action. I reach for the first thing I see – a large red fruit. I must have overreached, for I accidentally knocked over the entire basketful of fruit and several other things besides.

I groaned in annoyance and set about picking up the mess.

_Wait… What is that? Up there, on the shelf?_

Something bright red catches my eye, and I abandon the mess for a moment, now overwhelmed with curiosity. It appears to be a blanket, or perhaps a rag of some sort, but I'm not quite sure…

I grab it by one edge and take it down from the shelf, and it unfolds to reveal several golden poem-symbols.

_But… this is a… No, it can't be!_

But it is indeed a ceremonial tapestry. It is frayed at the top, suggesting that it was ripped down forcibly.

_Maybe…_

On a hunch, I ran outside and down the stairs into the main room. I look to the ceremonial tapestries, and sure enough, one is missing half.

I shiver, finally noticing the cold. I look from the remaining tapestry to the one I hold in my hands…

_Take us with you, Saavedro… take us with you…_

I hold the tapestry close. It is warm… and so soft… It feels like home…

This… This gives me an idea.

The Squee is not as certain about my plan, and it is not shy about voicing this concern.

_Saavedro… you aren't…?_

Oh, but I am, little one. I'll catch my death of cold out here, and I do want to make a _good impression_ when Atrus arrives, don't I?

_But they are sacred… you know this… you know…_

Yes. But survival counts more right now… and I do not wish to die, if I must die, in rags.

And I am very certain that my people would not want the last of their kind to suffer…

* * *

My new robe is finished. It is much warmer than my old, thin one, and it doesn't look too bad, either. The stitching is a bit rough, but I don't exactly have time to make it perfect. It was no easy task to make it, but I managed.

_Just like I've always had to…_

A sudden noise catches my attention – the sound of linking.

_He_ is here…

Oh, Weaver… He is _here…_

_Go greet him… Bring him into your world…_

We will, little one. We don't want to keep him waiting, _do we?_

_Yes yes yes my plan is _working!

Footsteps sound on metal. Spirits, I am _so close_ to having my life back – so close that I can _taste it…_

_And how does it taste? Tell me…_

It tastes sweet, little one. Sweet, like the juice of a fruit…

I clench Releeshahn tightly, feel the lock biting into the skin on my fingers…

I don't care.

I feel almost giddy as I reach to unlock the door…

_Stop. Saavedro, calm yourself – _breathe._ It will do no good to be hysterical now._

You are right, little one… you are right…

I unlock the door.

My heart races – I swear it just skipped a beat.

I begin to open it, turning as I do so. I close it.

_Are you ready, Atrus?_

I face him…

… and stare.

"_What?"_

It's her. It's the girl.

The Squee laughs its bizarre, scratchy laugh, and speaks in something near a sneer.

_Your plan is failing…_

No, no, no, no, _no!_ This is all wrong! This wasn't supposed to happen!

"You're not…"

But he _has_ to be here… he _has to be!_

"Where is he?"

The girl stares at me, her gold-flecked brown eyes wide with a mixture of panic and pity.

She does not answer me.

"Look, I know he's here. I have his book, so where is he?"

Her face is very pale, as if she is scared of the mere sight of me. She opens her mouth as if to speak, but quickly closes it.

"He didn't come… I take his book, and he sends _you_ instead…"

_And you actually thought that this would work…_

Shut up! Now is _not_ the time!

She is frightened. I can tell from the way that she trembles and quickened rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. She is trying to hide her fear – and she is failing miserably.

Saavedro… You fool. You are such an

"Idiot! You actually thought this would _work?_"

The girl remains silent, or if she is speaking, I do not hear her.

Why? You knew that this would fail, Saavedro, and yet you did it anyway. Why did you even try in the first place?

"Why? Why would he rewrite Narayan?! Because of your _messages?_ Because of your _paintings?_"

Of course not. He doesn't care, and he never did. He never will. And as for your plan, take a look around you.

"Look at your world. Look at what's left of it. When are you going to get it through your thick skull that _you do not matter to him!_"

I am _so angry_… so _angry_… so…

"Nobody could be alive out there…"

I look up at the girl, realizing that she is still there. She is trembling violently, but still trying to hide it. She is beginning to back towards the stairs.

I stare at her in disbelief. We stand like this a moment, eyes locked, ice blue and gold-brown locked in an unbreakable gaze.

She edges towards the stairs.

I approach her.

She freezes, seized in fear's icy grip.

I lean down to her eye level, for even though she appears to be about five feet tall, she is still shorter than me.

If I can't enact my plan, I can at least scare her a little. It's the least that she deserves for meddling in my plans…

My face is close to hers, maybe a foot away. She really does look like she could have been one of my daughters…

"We're stuck here, you know. The linking book back to J'nanin is gone, left behind when I linked out of Atrus' study. And as for getting into Narayan,"

(_The irony of that statement will kill me shortly…_)

"Look around you. This chamber –"

I jump to illustrate my point.

"– is the only way in, and Atrus installed some kind of shield, and I have _never_ been able to get past it – not once in all these years – so you're just as stuck here as I am."

The frightened look on her face is priceless.

_But there is truth to those words, and you know it._

Yes, little one. I know. We_ are_ trapped here – trapped like Squees in a cage. Trapped…

"At least until I open this book – then I'll show Atrus what it's like to watch your friends and relatives _die…_"

I turn to leave her with her thoughts, but the Squee stops me.

_The book. The Tomahna book. It's still down there. What if she…?_

Oh, but she _won't…_

I start back towards her.

She wouldn't _dare…_

I find myself at eye level with her once again.

"If you _do_ find a way out of here, I suggest that you think _very_ carefully about using it, because one thing I know about linking books is the doors that they open don't close behind you."

I left her standing there to think about her fear and enter my bunker.

As soon as I close the door, I hear quick footfalls on the metal stairs.

I can't help but grin a little at that in spite of myself – it is all that I can do to keep myself from laughing.

Then again, I suppose it doesn't really matter if I laugh or not - the Squee is already laughing for me.

* * *

I hear the shifting of shields as I walk over to the grilled window. The inner one is open, and the girl is standing outside of it, apparently looking for something. She steps towards the lonely gondola and enters it. For what reason, I don't know; it's not like it even _works_ anymore. Not without the outer shield down – and what good would it be to open it, anyway?

She turns, looks up at my grilled window and stumbles back in shock. What, does she think that I'm watching her?

She scurries down the stairs to the next floor, confirming my thoughts. I turn away from the window.

_She is not the bravest of girls, is she?_

It would appear not, little one, but bravery and courage are two different things entirely…

_You would not hurt her. She is too cowardly to fight you…_

I doubt that I can agree with you there, little one. I am not so sure that I _wouldn't_ hurt her. If she made one wrong move at the wrong moment…

I turn back towards the window, dispelling my thoughts for the moment. Now the girl is heading – quickly – back into the main room.

_What_ is she doing?

She does not return, and I watch as the inner shield reforms before finally stepping away from the window.

* * *

_Atrus and that girl are here – trapped. They desperately plead with me from behind the shield, but I do not listen. I have the linking book, I have Releeshahn, they beg me not to drop them, and I step onto the gondola – the outer shield is somehow open. I glide off, dropping the books as I leave, their screams echoing across the endless pink sky…_

I am awoken from my dream by the strange sound of shifting shields. I blink as the bunker is flooded by warm, red light.

Wait…

… _Red_ light?

Half-hoping that it is true, I peek out of the window.

_Oh… Oh, Weaver, the sky is _pink…

She did it. She actually did it. She opened the outer shield.

I yell in astonishment, and in my joy, I quickly grab Releeshahn and run downstairs. I stop at the grill…

… and stare.

The world. _I see the__world_. My world. And the – I see _lights_ in the trees. And the trees are healthy…

_Oh, Weaver have mercy. They're alive…_

"They're _alive?_"

I turn to the girl, still half-dazed by astonishment.

"How did you…?"

_She is a smart girl, _says the Squee._ I see why Atrus made her his friend…_

I step towards her and lean to look around her. There it was, glowing like a star in the code mechanism.

_Balanced Systems Stimulate Civilization_

Of course… _of course…_

"The fourth symbol."

On a whim, I walk over to the switch and flip it.

I turn to find the inner shield open and the outer shield closed.

_What?_

I flip it again, and the shields reverse – now the outer shield is open, and the inner one is closed.

_I can't just…_

Flip.

… _make both of them…_

Flip.

… _open at the same time?_

Flip.

_Home. You could go home, Saavedro._

You are stating that which I already know, little one. Stop it – it's annoying.

_They're all still alive, and Tamra…_

Tamra…

By the Weaving! She's… She might be…

I wander away from the switch.

"No… She gives me hope, only to _destroy_ me with it!"

_And yet you are still missing a piece of the puzzle. The game is not over yet. There is another player, Saavedro – and she is standing right behind you…_

I see…

As always, your wisdom has proven immeasurably useful, little one…

Flip.

"You see…"

I begin to walk back towards the girl. She doesn't flinch. Perhaps she is used to me now, or perhaps she has finally regained her composure.

"I still have something that he wants. Something that he sent _you_ to bring back for him."

I hold Releeshahn in my hands, give it a final look, and turn it to show its cover to the girl.

"The Releeshahn book."

_And you had better do this - you had better follow my plan exactly to the letter, or so help me…_

"Switch the shields while I'm out by the gondola. Drop the outer barrier – and in return, I'll give up Releeshahn."

Please do this for me… _please…_

I walk onto the balcony.

"_Do it._"

_Oh please please please you _must_ do this for me!_

I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

She approaches the wall of vines near the stairs and watches me pace.

I motion towards the lever, but say nothing.

She leaves.

Still I wait.

Not a minute later, I hear footsteps.

I turn, and she is standing there, mere feet from me.

"What are you doing?"

_What? What do you want?_

"Go back and switch the outer barrier, or _so help me_, I _will_ drop this…"

_Go go go do it set me free…_

She doesn't budge.

I am beginning to get irate…

"What, you don't think I'm serious about destroying Releeshahn?"

_I am. I will_…

Still she stands there, mocking me.

_I dare you, _she taunts. _Come get me. I don't believe you…_

"_Do it_ – or I _swear_ I _will _drop this into oblivion…"

She stands.

Blinks.

Slowly, a look of horror appears on her face.

She looks at me, then at the book.

She slowly steps back inside.

Good. Now _stay there_ – stay there and do what I want you to…

I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

The barrier doesn't drop.

_What is taking her so long?_

I turn to go speak with her.

Nobody is in the room.

_But if she's not… then where…?_

I hear the shield switch, and I turn,

_But the outer shield is still… Oh, no. No!_

She didn't…

I stumble back, staring at the inner shield, trying to convince myself that it is not really there…

_No way out. No way in… I'm trapped._

"No. No! Idiot!"

Even the Squee is horrified, and it can currently do little more than squeak in fear.

It is the first time since its death that I have _ever _heard it do so.

Why? Why didn't I _think_ about this beforehand?

Already I feel the icy fog begin to close in on all sides of me… it creeps slowly towards me, wrapping its wispy tendrils around my body…

"No! No, no, no…"

It pulls me to my knees…

"No, no, no…"

It is in my veins, flowing through me sluggishly, freezing everything… my limbs won't move; I feel dreadfully cold…

It means to kill me, to claim me for its own…

And I do not fight it.

"No… no…"

I feel nothing. I _am_ nothing.

The Fog has won. Even now, I can feel it consume me, feel my heart freeze over, see black clouds begin to eat at my vision…

"Saavedro?"

Who… who is that?

Who is calling me?

"Saavedro?"

I look up, and see a concerned face staring at me through the grill.

It's the girl…

"Oh, no… No! Please don't leave me like this… not when my family could still be alive out there…"

I feel so weak… it is hard to stand, but somehow, I do.

She seems to be trying to keep herself calm. I can see something in her eyes… is it pity? Is it kindness? Sympathy? _What?_

_Please, have mercy on me… Help me…_

"Here…"

I pick up Releeshahn, the only thing that I have to offer, and hold it out to her. Atrus wants it, so she must want it…

"You want the book? I'll give you the book."

I hand it to her through a gap in the grill, and she takes it, looking a bit uncertain.

"Just please… _please_… Don't leave me here. I… I _can't_ do this again! Please don't leave me trapped here like this! I…"

I feel the Fog begin to pull me away, and I submit.

Does she even feel? Is she even human? What if…?

_Please help me!_

I don't know what will happen. I don't know anything anymore. I –

The shields switch.

I feel the newfound warmth begin the melt the ice away. The Fog begins to dissipate.

I feel the wind on my face, feel the sun's warmth, let my eyes take in the warm, reddish glow of the sky…

And I look up.

There she is, staring down at me. She is smiling.

Free. I'm _free,_ little one.

Little one?

The Squee does not respond. Indeed, I do not feel its presence any longer – it's as if it has died a second time and finally gone on…

The girl nods and brushes something away from her face.

I am vaguely aware of something wet on my own face, but I do not brush it away.

But… what do I do? How can I ever thank you for…?

I raise my hand in farewell. She waves at me, and I see that her eyes are wet.

Thank you… for everything. May the roots uphold you, friend of Atrus…

I step into the gondola and set it gliding down the cable. The wind rushes past me, embracing me, welcoming me…

_Welcome back, Son of Narayan. Welcome home._


	18. Epilogue: The Aftermath

_The epilogue. The aftermath. Whatever you call it, it's the denouement of the story, the ending to everything. There are so many "Return to Narayan" stories out there… well, now I think that, with this last addition, I've done one better. I've told Saavedro's story the same way that he told it to me – and I don't know about you, but the ending to this story is giving me warm fuzzies. The ending to Myst III: Exile is the ONLY thing in a video game that has ever made me cry. I wonder if you, dear reader, are the same way._

_Once more, I just want to thank the Narayani Collective for giving me support while I wrote this story. As a matter of fact, a few of the members' RPG characters, including mine (though she is considerably older here), appear in this chapter. I guess that's sort of my little tribute to the collective. Long live the Collective – _Naray Alani…

* * *

"What is that?"

"The gondola!"

"It is them! It is them again!"

"It is the end of us all! Everybody run!"

"Easy, easy, everyone!" yelled Elder Tiran. "We do not know who is in the gondola, true, but there is no need to jump to conclusions. If you had been looking at it a little more closely, you would have seen that there is only _one_ traveler in it, so it could not possibly be… _them_."

The crowd watched uneasily as the gondola drew ever closer. It had all started a few minutes ago when a woman named Trivaa, a thirty year old with startlingly mismatched eyes, had noticed something different about the Shielded Tree as she walked past it on her way to her friend's house. Bewildered by the lack of the shield, she ran fast and faster to the main square, telling everyone that she met that the shield was down. Those people that she met told others, and they told still others, and before long, a crowd had gathered. By the time most people got there, however, the shield had reformed, resulting in many a disappointed viewer taking leave.

The remaining group, which was still rather large, had watched intently as the shield melted again and the gondola came rushing towards the tree…

* * *

I see the growing crowd, I can see their faces…

There is Edhri… I wonder how she is keeping up with her writing studies. And there is Trivaa – I would recognized her eyes anywhere… she was such a good student; such a talented artist... And there are Kaami and Aznor, bless them, such hard workers, such good people…

The gondola docks at the station, and I step out, walking slowly to stand before the crowd.

I hear whispers.

"Who is he?"

"What happened to him?"

"It's him… I'd know his face, and I know that it's him…"

I listen to all of this, slowly taking in the sea of faces and flood of memories.

… I am not sure of what to say.

When I finally speak, the words are shaky and casual, as if I were saying hello to a person on the street rather than returning home.

"… Hello. It's me. I'm back…"

I speak these words, and they are not in Atrus' tongue. I speak these words, and they are in Narani. I speak these words, and I own them…

Slow realization begins to spread across the crowd, and smiles light up faces, and the whispers grow to a murmur, then a chatter.

_Yes… yes… it's me. It is Saavedro…_

I hear greetings, people welcoming me, asking me what happened and where I was for so long, trying to bring me up to speed.

Two soft voices stand out from the roar of the crowd, and I feel eyes upon me. I turn, and standing there are a pair of young women, one with teal green eyes like the sea, and the other with eyes to match my own.

The ice-eyed woman speaks to me in a musical voice, like the sound of a flute.

"… F-father?"

"M-my child?"

The woman slowly nods yes, tears beginning to well in her eyes.

"… Sírla?"

"Yes, father. It is me…"

"Telaa?"

The woman with the teal-green eyes smiles shyly and walks up to me, arms open.

Her sister runs towards me, flinging her arms around me and weeping for joy.

I embrace them both.

"Oh… my daughters… my beautiful children! Look at you, Telaa! You look like your mother… And Sírla… you have my eyes… my eyes…"

My daughters… my baby girls… they've grown up! They are women, they are independent…

We let go of each other, holding each other's hands now.

But… where is –

"_Saavedro!"_

She runs from out of the crowd suddenly, as if she were a ghost this entire time and had just found a visible, tangible form.

We stare at each other for a brief moment.

I cannot bear it any longer, and I run to her. We fling our arms around each other, daring not to let go for a moment, lest she slip away like a dream.

"Oh, Tamra! Tamra, my love…"

She is crying tears of joy, and she clings to me ever tighter, like a vine that seeks another vine for support. I embrace her sweet form, and I rock her back and forth gently, and I stroke her hair as she cried and murmur that everything is okay now, I am here.

She looks to me and wipes at the tears on her face.

"I… Saavedro, I… I missed you so! I thought you were… I though you were dead! I thought…"

She buries her face in my chest, sobs racking her body, tears staining my robes.

"Oh, Tamra, _ami soule…_ it will be alright. I will never leave you again… never…"

I feel tears begin to streak down my own face and fall to the ground as teardrops, and I cling to her all the tighter.

So we stand, alone in our own world.


End file.
